


The Corruption of Ben Solo

by dentigerous, wraithnoir



Series: The Corruption of Ben Solo [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corruptor Hux, Dark Side use of the force, Force boners, M/M, Mental Control, Mind Games, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Smuggler Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 62,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6804667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentigerous/pseuds/dentigerous, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithnoir/pseuds/wraithnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo has been trying to find his place in the universe since he was eight years old. In between the Senate, the Temple and the Falcon, it's been easiest to just adopt his father's facade. While making a run for the Solo business, the young smuggler catches a snag when stealing First Order weapons, and takes a general hostage. The tension is palatable, and Ben finds himself intrigued by this man who has such extreme, complete convictions in his station when Ben himself never been able to find a foothold in the galaxy. Then the General offers him the chance to explore his power and Ben must make a choice; follow the General or fly the New Kessel Run.</p><p>(Or the AU where Ben doesn't go dark side as a teenager, becomes a smuggler, and Hux corrupts him instead.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated Mondays. Part one of four (so far!)

Diverted shipments were usually not the type of issue that the General took an active interest in. That didn’t mean that reports never came up on his datapad. Over the past two months small amounts of supplies that were supposed to be headed toward the construction of Starkiller Base had been lost. These sorts of discrepancies weren’t unusual, even the frequency wasn’t anything that would raise eyebrows, but in this case the numbers didn’t add up.

Or rather, they did.

Exactly, every time. As if someone was measuring the precise amount of supplies that would pass by unnoticed and then taking just under the concerning amount. Anyone else who looked at these reports would have considered these losses negligible, but this was one time too many for the General.

He held his datapad as he exited the small cruiser, then walked through the system of buildings as he carefully inspected the interiors of the warehouses for signs of tampering. He held up the pad to the screen alongside the entryway to see who had opened the bay where the most recent missing shipments had been last scanned.

The lights were always dim in the warehouses the Sonn-Bas Corporation used for their shipments to the First Order, as though the buildings themselves were secretive about what they contained. Ben hated having to either use the shoulder light attached to his jacket to highlight the labels on the shipping crates as he had to alternately climb and crouch to find the labels he was looking for. He and his father had been doing this particular run for a few months, and the credits they were making off of this grade of military tech (specialty tech made just for the Outer Rim group that was playing at being the old Empire way out there where no one cared, illegally getting weapons and vehicles and doing just about nothing with them) were some of the easiest credits they’d made since they’d had to divert from the usual runs. Enough to overcome Chewie’s protests to Han that if Leia found out...well, the actual description of what she’d do to Han was Wookiee specific, but the general idea was probably spot on.

Ben walked along the rows of crates, counting down as he looked for row J-12. He swore under his breath when he realized he was on the wrong side of the warehouse, huffing as he headed down the row. He paused to look more closer along the top edge of each crate to find the ones he wanted. While there were sentries who moved in their slow, scheduled shifts around the yard, he wasn’t expecting the door to open just then. Again choosing some creative curses from his large inventory, he ducked down to make sure he wasn’t seen by whomever had just walked in.

Hux practically followed his datapad into the storehouse, frowning at the screen. He glanced up after taking a few steps inside, brows drawn together as he looked around the rows of goods and technologies that were destined for the First Order’s new base. He hadn’t been in a place like this in years; it was grunt work.

Making a noise to express how annoyed and slightly disgusted he was by the sloppiness of the entire situation, Hux made his way over past each row. He walked slowly enough to count the columns of shipments. His pace slowed even further when he got to one of the areas where the shipments had gone sporadically missing.

Stopping in front of the J-12 marker, Hux frowned and looked at the very shipment that his datapad said hadn’t been logged into his system. He set his jaw, turning away from the warehouse shelves to review the log for a third time, confirming that there was no scan registered. Someone was taking First Order tech out from their warehouses.

It was the silhouette of the officer’s hat that Ben noticed first, distinctive with its peaked sides. Of course. It couldn’t just be some random yard worker, or even a pair of stormtroopers making the rounds. That might have been a little messy, but ultimately he could keep it quiet, even evade them without firepower. He wasn’t in this for a fight; he was in this to get out cleanly so he could keep the run as an option down the line. There was no way some uniformed First Order pretty boy was going to screw this up for him.

He knocked over a crate by the end of the row then kept to the line of shadows created by the tall stacks as he made his way down to where the other man had been standing. The clatter masked the sound of his boots, and Ben had his blaster out and already trained on the startled officer as he moved. The crates falling had the desired effect, Hux turned, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the disturbance. The general lowered his datapad, thinking quickly. There were only a few options, and he was sure that smugglers were behind this sort of product skimming. It was small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it was a matter of principle.

By the time the noise had settled, Ben had already made it to the other side of the row and was squinting at the denta bean counter in the dark uniform. It was funny; in the half light, the warehouse worker almost had the look of a high level officer. It was weird, how the uniforms all looked the same. It was even funnier how the stripes on the other man’s heavy coat would have almost indicated…

His mother’s education helped him out at the strangest times. The man he’d taken for a datapad jockey was a general. A kriffing First Order general.

Well, that only made it more exciting, right? His internal Uncle Chewie voice roared at him in disapproval.

“Hands on your head, mouth shut,” he said in the stillness that followed the settling of the fallen crates. He made sure the light from the dim panels caught on the dented metal of his blaster while his own face was still in partial shadow.

Hux set his jaw, taking a few steps away from the noise, realizing that this was most certainly a distraction. Lifting his datapad with every intention of signalling the troopers that were waiting outside of the warehouse, he was faced with the muzzle of some cheap blaster and a tall, broad silhouette.

Hux knew that his own blaster was out of reach, that the comm on his wrist was unreachable, that he was essentially crippled in the face of this drift forager. Jaw tight, he raised his hands slowly, making the effort look casual and compliant at the same time.

For his part, Ben had learned that one of his greatest weapons in the face of something like this, any confrontation really (before the actual shooting began anyway), was to smile. Just slightly, just enough. And that was a lesson from both parents; he’d watched his mother in the Senate face down four Centrist Senators opposed to a proposal she intended to see passed and every single time, her verbal coup de grace was prefaced by that slight smile. He’d also seen his father get the better part of multiple deals (that he really, probably, if one was really being honest and truthful and all of that, didn’t deserve) by holding his shoulders back and relaxed and keeping that smile on his face. It only took one corner of his mouth anyway.

“Drop the datapad. Go on.”

Hux shifted, rolling his eyes, and leaned to put the datapad down on the nearby shelf, putting his empty hands back up. He stayed still, glaring at the unknown figure, tilting his head up.

“Anything else?”

Ben wasn’t surprised by the other man’s calm demeanor; it was that usual military calm (though the eyeroll was special), trained in and generally stuck to in any situation. He probably should have been impressed, but it just made him chuckle under his breath.

“How many bucketheads are waiting outside for you?” he asked, leaving the expected ‘general’ off the end of the question.

“Enough to take care of you,” Hux said quietly, not moving at all, his breathing low and shallow. Although he appeared composed, Hux was annoyed, not only with himself but the fact that this smuggler had the gall to put a weapon in his face, to point it at him. “Approaching me was foolish.”

“Hardly. You’re between me and the door, and I’m not keen on obstacles. What’re even doing in here? Sneaking around to meet up with someone?” Ben wiggled his eyebrows enough to make it clear what he implying.

Hux frowned, and it was the most surprised he had been the entire time. He shook his head once, gesturing towards the shelf. The action was basically involuntary; he had no intention of explaining himself to this lowlife.

“I’m not the only one in between you and whatever excuse you have for a ship.”

Ben stepped closer, weapon still steadily trained on the First Order general.

“First, you’re going to tell me how many troopers are out there so I can decide exactly how I want to deal with you. Second…” He leaned in, just enough to put his smirk into the light. “You probably don’t want to insult my ship.”

Hux wanted to roll his eyes again, but he took a deep breath instead, turning his wrists slightly. The frustrating part of this was that stormtroopers didn’t regularly inspect the insides of the warehouses, merely monitored the sensors inside the buildings. Since he had signed in, the sensors wouldn’t be triggered, though as the smuggler had gotten in he had managed to bypass them first somehow.

“They rotate. I haven’t memorized the schedules.” A lie, although not unbelievable. He was gathering more information about this man the longer he stayed in his presence. “I doubt you’ll even make it to your ship.”

Ben watched him right back, watched the way he held his mouth. That was actually a lie he could see; more than that, it was a lie he could feel. He extended the Force, fingers of his left hand reaching out slightly even as he held the blaster steady in his right.

“You’re lying. You know every man’s number and schedule.” Ben’s face relaxed a little and his smile came back. “How many troopers out there, general?”

Hux frowned slightly, surprised again. It was probably a record, considering how long he had been in this man’s presence. The general wouldn’t have immediately jumped to Force user, but the hand, the slightly arrogant tone, the way that he seemed to be concentrating rather than just reading some kind of data.

“I don’t know,” Hux said steadily, concentrating on being a politician for the moment. Technically, there was no way he knew for sure how many troopers were out there unless he could see them. Technically, someone could have missed their time, been delayed, sped up, or just missed their round entirely. It wasn’t unheard of, and although it was unlikely, General Hux made himself believe, fiercely, in his lack of knowing.

This time, Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly; it was easy to respect someone being a little difficult when faced with something like this, but considering it was the pale general’s face on the business end of the blaster in the smuggler’s hand, it was just stupid. And frustrating.

Ben didn’t like not getting what he wanted. And to be honest, nobody liked having their aims thwarted, but it was impatience that got to Ben most, no matter what his Uncle Luke had taught him over the years.

His hand came up again, letting him focus more easily. He exerted his will, knowing that the general was likely to be too strongly willed himself to give up everything. But between the Force and the blaster, it seemed like an answer would be forthcoming.

“How about an approximate there, huh? I’m running out of patience, I’ve got places to be, and I’m just thinking about whether you’re more fun as a hostage or a human shield.”

There, something, a hint of something. Not as collected, not as cool. Hux didn’t move but kept his eyes on the man. He frowned, feeling the intrusion, and his hands lowered a fraction. Ducking his head slightly, Hux started to breathe a little less regularly, taking a half step back.

This was harder. He swallowed, turning his head, the aborted gesture of a shake as he stared at the ground, not moving for a few seconds, his entire body tense as he tried think three ways at once.

“Two guards...patrol at a time.” There, mumbled, information, but not specific. He knew resisting was stubborn, but he wasn’t known for being accommodating.

Ben didn’t let up; this wasn’t just him getting smuggling info out of someone (which he never did, as the result of very strict lectures from his uncle on the draw of the ineluctable dark side), this was him trying not to get killed on his way back to the _Falcon_.

“How many are looking for you? How many know you’re in here now?” Ben heard his voice get a little lower as though it was someone else’s.

Hux stepped back, his hands lowering further. His thoughts were becoming slow, but he was thinking clearly, thinking of the guards, thinking of the men on his ship, he knew that he was focusing on what the man in front of him wanted to know, and he hated it. There was a resistance to him, too, a sharp flare up of something like bull-headed determination and indignity turned to anger.

“They’re waiting.” A pause, another turn of his head, his eyes closed now. “Twelve, waiting on my ship. Just...the supply convoy.”

“On the ship, which is on the other side of the port from mine, and two by two the rest of them patrol around.” Ben lowered his left hand and smiled, though the blaster stayed up. “Well, let’s see how good at taking orders you are. I want you to undo that comm on your wrist and set it on the ground, slowly. Nice and slow so my trigger finger doesn’t get overeager.”

The fog lifted, and Hux flushed slightly. He was glaring up at the man, angry and humiliated. The last time he had been so compelled, so controlled, he had been a teenager. He swallowed, setting his shoulders before putting his arms out, very obviously pulling the comm link off his sleeve and setting it on the shelf next to his datapad. Not the ground, not quite obeying the command again.

“And where will we be going?” he asked calmly.

Even in the half light, the angry flush was obvious on the officer’s pale face. Ben watched him, jaw tensing at the obvious show of defiance.

“Well, considering you can’t follow simple instructions, where you’re going is going to depend on what you worship. Put the comm and the datapad on the damn ground.” There was no Force control behind the words, just the anger that was slightly dangerous when it managed to come through.

Hux had shaken off the effects of the forced entry into his mind by thinking fast, quickly cataloging all the details, the little nuances of the man in front of him. No detail too small. There was a temper, arrogance, a need to be listened to, not just obeyed. Demanded respect, ruthless (maybe), but at the very least unafraid to take risks. He reached over and gathered the two pieces of tech, unable to turn them on or send out an alert, then he crouched down to set them on the floor next to the shelves.

“Better?” He asked, his snide tone unwarranted for a First Order officer facing down a smuggler’s gun alone with no backup coming and really no way for him to reach his own weapon. He set his jaw, annoyed at the entire situation.

With an almost negligent movement, Ben put his hand out again and pulled both tech devices to himself. It wasn’t a gesture meant to show off; use of the Force like that was so natural it was the same to him as leaning down to grab them up physically. But this way he could keep the blaster on the general.

“A little better. Next, take your weapon off your belt and set that down too. And let me tell you, pretty boy, I can’t emphasize enough how quick blaster bolts go through First Order fabric.” The smuggler raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Hux made a noise, carefully unclipping his weapon from its holster. It was undignified, but he was pretty sure that this scum wouldn’t hesitate to make good on his threats. Instead of putting the gun on the floor, he held it out to the man, the muzzle pointed away from them both.

The fact that the taller man didn’t just have a blaster, but could make easy use of the Force was a good reason Hux wasn’t about to try anything particularly heroic. The general would have made a match for any average man, and a few different varieties of sentients, but he couldn’t fight against someone who would be able to throw him across the room, trip him from ten feet away or choke him to death with just a hand gesture.

There were limits to the sort of risk Hux was willing to take on. Tangling with a Force user in a deserted warehouse on a near-empty planetoid was not one of them.

Having stuffed the datapad and comm into the bag slung over his shoulder, Ben took the weapon from the general. It was nice, nicer than the one he was using. One of these new designs that the First Order was commissioning. Hush, hush, no one knew about that, right? When he came across this sort of thing in person, Ben often felt that little pang in his gut that he was pretty sure was guilt. He should be telling his mother. But that would put an end to his way of life as he got dragged into something else, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want war.

Tucking the blaster into the back of his belt, he gestured with his own weapon.

“Go on, you can lead the parade. Stroll it nice and easy, general. Let’s see if our luck holds out.” He smiled, mouth closed but still half gleeful.

He still wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the general, truth be told, but obviously making it to the door was a priority either way.

The general shifted and began to walk towards the exit. He moved slowly at first, then resumed his normal stride, hands still up at by his head. He glanced back at the smuggler once and then kept his eyes ahead. Stopping as he reached the entrance, he gestured again with his hands, small turns of his wrists.

“From here?”

Ben blew a loose lock of dark hair out of his eyes as he got closer to the door, opening it with a wave. He peered out from their position just inside, eyes sliding carefully over the yard. The benefits of places like this were manifold, and lack of actual supervision was the biggest. He hated to be leaving here without the stock his father was expecting, but making sure the supply run remained intact was important too.

The best thing about stormtrooper armor, from the point of view of the other side, was how highly visible it was. The outer yard was quiet and the lights that were there didn’t glint off of any white armor. Maybe he’d make it back to the _Falcon_ without any more mishaps.

“Out this way, to the right.” He nudged the general’s shoulder with the muzzle of his blaster then followed him out. The other man seemed smart enough not to make a run for it. Keeping an eye out for interference, Ben pulled the comm out of his bag and tossed it into the air. He caught it mid-flight with the Force, then gave the throw that extra bit of power behind it to drop it up onto the roof of the warehouse. “Go on, keep moving.”

Although it rankled him to be this compliant, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice considering the cold metal of the smuggler’s weapon against his shoulder. An injury like that would cause major damage, could rupture his brachial artery, would make him useless for weeks.

He continued through the paved roads that connected all the warehouses, trying to think of the exact schedules when the guards would be coming by. Timing was everything, and he wasn’t sure that his men were the best hostage negotiators on the planet. Glancing around, he turned one of his wrists then looked back at the man for a second.

“Where exactly am I going?”

“You just keep on walking. Head around that warehouse with the blue sign on the side.” Ben was already going through his explanation to Chewie in his head, in the event that he actually brought the officer on board. Because, as he thought about it, he couldn’t just leave him here. That would definitely tighten up security, now that he knew. He also could tell the man was smart; he wasn’t likely to believe this was a one time thing, or even a first time thing.

He was holding off on thinking what either of his parents would think for now. That was likely to bring on a migraine.

Let’s just concentrate on getting to the ship, Ben, he told himself. His head turned suddenly, sensing something to their left. He pressed his mouth and nudged the blaster against the general’s side.

“Move a little faster, sweet cheeks.”

Setting his jaw, Hux tried very hard not to snap at the man behind him. Furious was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt right now. He walked down the roads, keeping his hands up, which should have been an obvious sign to any trooper that might come around that he was being forced along.

He turned at the warehouse that the smuggler had indicated, heading down the alley and glaring directly ahead.

“To your ship, then?” Hux muttered, momentarily glancing back at the man and turning slightly to get his body out of direct contact with the blaster.

Ben met his eyes and shrugged.

“In that direction, yeah.” Ben glanced away again. There were other people close, but he couldn’t quite figure out the direction. He didn’t have the luxury of putting all his attention into it. It was a skill he wanted to hone, and he figured he would practice with Rey next time his uncle talked him into spending a little time at the temple again. He looked back to the general. “What’s your name anyway, sweet cheeks?”

“General,” Hux said belligerently.

Ben broke into a broad grin that was totally at odds with the situation.

“Shit. You’ve got some mean parents.” He chuckled to himself then went back to scanning the area as they walked down the alley between tall warehouses. He didn’t like being funneled into a corridor like this.

The general rolled his eyes even though he knew that the effect would be entirely lost. He continued to walk along the narrow corridor, their boots making sharp noises against the asphalt-like material.

“I’m starting to doubt that you even have a ship,” he muttered, frustrated that not only had he not seen any stormtroopers, but that it appeared for all intents that this man was planning on taking him off-world at the most immediate opportunity. His men, unfortunately, would know better than to question his disappearance, but he did say that he would be back in half an hour. Hopefully someone would put the nature of his disappearance together.

“Oh, she’s here.” Ben breathed a sigh of relief when they hit the end of the long buildings set up side by side. The _Falcon_ was just back around that tall wall of shipping crates (the back row of which should already be loaded up while his co-pilot had waited for him). All they had to do was make it around the-

“Halt. Turn around slowly and lower your weapon.” The voices through the stormtrooper helmets all sounded the same, Ben reflected as he turned to face them. He kept his weapon at about head level for the general, making it very clear to the two stormtroopers that their general would only have a split second. “Lower your weapon.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Ben said in an almost casual voice. “As a matter of fact, I really think you two should be patrolling the other side of the yard, because you haven’t seen anything over here.”

Hux felt something like anger and panic rise, and he held his hands out in front of his chest, the universal indicator to halt. He had opened his mouth but it seemed unnecessary. He had read about this, a mind trick that old users were taught. Hux set his jaw, feeling frustrated and ineffectual as the troopers glanced at each other and lowered their weapons, turning smartly and leaving the two of them basically alone.

It was no surprise that they had rolled over so fast. They had been trained since they were toddler age to take instruction; their wills were unnecessary things. Hux took a deep breath, annoyed that this exact situation had never been accounted for. Force sensitives were rare, and Force-trained sentients were basically extinct.

Ben hit the comm on his wrist and spoke into it as he nudged the general to keep moving.

“Be ready to take off in a hurry, Chewie. I’m there in two minutes.” He was half jogging and making sure the First Order office kept pace as they headed around the crates and the _Falcon’s_ lowered ramp awaited them.

Hux let himself be prodded into a double march, but when he saw the Corellian class light freighter he almost froze. These ships were notorious for being cranky, smuggler-favored pieces of shit and here he was about to board one as a kriffing prisoner. Ben’s blaster poked him in the side.

“I know, she leaves you speechless, but keep moving. You’re messing with my schedule and I have a drop off to make,” the dark-haired man said with a quick smile.

Hux ducked his head as he boarded the junker made of metal and prayers, dropping his hands as he walked into the curved hallway.

“Gods forbid I interrupt anything important,” he sneered, glancing around again. There was something familiar about all this, something not-right and off putting. Behind him, Ben hit the panel to close up the ramp, already moving forward and past the general.

“Chewie! We’ve got company!” he bellowed as he walked, voice carrying through the ship. The answering roar was headed toward the bridge. “Not exactly friendly, no. But we need to get out of here.” Another roar from the Wookiee. “Um...not exactly that either.”

Tucking his blaster back into its holster on his hip, Ben looked over at the general, who was looking around in undisguised distaste. The smuggler smiled disingenuously at him.

“Yeah, she’s a beaut, isn’t she? My father threatens to take her back every so often, but technically, I stole her fair and square.” He shrugged and gestured for the general to walk ahead. “Come on, sweet cheeks, let’s get strapped in for travel. And so I can keep an eye on you.” He reached over and snatched the cap from the officer’s head. “And didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners? No hats on in here.”

The Wookiee’s call through the ship was the final connection. An ancient, battle- worn Corellian freighter, a Wookiee, a trained force user who seemed more bravado than substance. He knew Han Solo (every good Imperial brat knew him), knew that he married the Princess-turned-General Leia Organa, that they had a son. As if he wouldn’t know every member, every weakness available to him when fighting the fledgling resistance. It all seemed so obvious, like the man had laid it out in front of him just to see if he would know. Although, perhaps that was giving this smuggler too much credit.

“Give it back, Solo,” Hux muttered, stepping forward to take the cover back from the young man, glaring at him as he continued through the ship, tucking the cap neatly into his belt, looking around. “I’ve heard stories about the _Falcon_. I’m surprised it turns on at all.”

“You’re not hearing the right stories then.” Ben could cover neatly when his bluff was called, and really, it made his chest swell a little with pride that his name was known. It was still a little shock to hear your name from someone you’d never told it to. He intended to return the favor. He looked back to the general, his dark eyes intense as his smile went a little distant. “General...oh fuck.”

He swallowed and licked his lips quickly. Arrik Hux. That was the name that had been right at the edge of his consciousness this whole time. Now that he’d reached out to grab it, he didn’t want it. He knew all the names of the old Empire (his mother had seen to that), and Brendol Hux’s name stood out when it came to war crimes. He guessed this wasn’t exactly a coincidence. Arrik Hux must have been his bouncing baby boy.

Hux’s eyes narrowed as Ben’s widened, and he knew, somehow, that his own little stunt had garnered some retaliation. He took in the man’s expression and glanced around, hands behind his back easily, then stared back at Solo as if he were a subordinate.

“Now that we’re acquainted, are you going to let me go or deliver me to your mother?” he asked softly, trying to get a rise out of the young Ben Solo.

The stream of obscenities running through Ben’s head would have shocked Lando Calrissian, who’d taught him many of them, though not necessarily in that order with those body parts in that combination.

“Well, I was going to just dump you off somewhere, but I’ve always been curious about the bounty life, so let’s see, huh?”

The general smirked, something about his face going beyond smug. “Of course,” he muttered, glancing to the side. He wondered briefly if Solo could hear his thoughts and decided to give the insult voice instead. “She must be so proud.”

Ben’s jaw tightened, even though he was very very consciously aware of what Hux was doing. It was an obvious attempt to rile him up, to get him to make a mistake, to say the wrong thing. But it remained a touchy subject for him: his life choices, the way he’d bounced between life with his mother as he tagged along behind the Senator in her busy work creating the New Republic, to the quiet, intense temple life with his uncle who believed his type of power needed to be trained and harnessed according to Jedi principles, and the wild, unstable life with his father when he returned to the old smuggling game after screaming matches with his wife. Throughout his life, he’d signed his name Solo, Organa, and Skywalker. So the general’s strident, smug voice, with those nasal vowels and sharply enunciated consonants pricked him more than he wanted them to let them.

“Are you kidding me, sweet cheeks?” He called up his father’s voice in his head. “I get a free pass for years if I turn in the rising star of the First Order.”

“I’m so thrilled to be your bargaining chip for your family’s favor,” Hux said, completely unimpressed. He gestured again, towards where he assumed the cockpit was, judging by the direction of the Wookiee’s roar. “I still haven't seen this ship move.”

“I know, I know, I’m supposed to be offended. If I was you, I’d be a little more worried about the fact that your little snooping got you into a heap of trouble topped by the fact that no one even noticed that you’re gone.” Ben walked past him again, making sure to knock him with his shoulder before sliding into the pilot’s seat. “Strap in, Arrik, we’re making a quick jump to hyperspace to get away from this forsaken planet. I mean, good choice for your evil plotting, but as vacation spots go, it’s a disappointment.” As he spoke, he was flipping switches and preparing the ship for departure. The old vessel rattled and gave a mighty wheeze as its engines engaged. Chewbacca spared one threatening look for the First Order general and roared at him. Whether or not he understood Wookiee, the intention was pretty clear.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve got it under control, Chewie,” Ben muttered, reaching above his head for one of the final switches. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Hux was a little surprised that there wasn’t a single holding cell and that he was expected to follow Solo through his ship to the cockpit. He secured himself in the rickety seat, sitting behind the Wookiee. The smell was horrible. It might have been more merciful to have just killed him in the damn warehouse.

The lack of restraints also screamed arrogance. Clearly this boy had no reservations about letting a First Order General have some amount of autonomy while on the ship. He supposed in between Hux’s own lack of weapons, a Wookiee stronger than either of them, and Solo’s ability to move things with his damn mind, it was a pretty safe bet that Hux wouldn’t be able to cause too much trouble. The assumption annoyed him, despite the fact that he was probably right.

Ahead of him, the viewscreen showed the stars around them. Although the old ship sounded as though she wasn’t going to survive the jump into hyperspace, Ben and Chewbacca didn’t act in any way surprised by the noises and were seemingly unconcerned by the jerky movements as the ship got underway.

“What an incredible piece of junk,” Hux muttered, shifting to try to feel a little more secure even as his seat made his teeth rattle.

Ben glanced back at him for a second, then at the control panel in front of him when something started to beep (he had just fixed that, it wasn’t supposed to make that slightly honking noise anymore), then made a hasty adjustment before engaging the hyperdrive. Hux’s eyes widened, and he was sure in that minute he was going to die on this scrapheap. The viewscreen was a tunnel of bright streaks as the stars fell away behind them, and as if that had just been a needed warm up, the _Millenium Falcon_ steadied. Ben punched a few buttons and puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled, knowing exactly what was coming.

Behind the two captains, Hux crossed one arm over his chest, his face in his hand, his eyes closed.

Chewbacca’s displeasure was immediately made known in the cockpit. Ben let him talk for a bit; none of it had been wrongly predicted in his head.

“He was snooping around the warehouse; this was the only way out. If I’d shot him, they’d have tightened up security even more. Chewie-” Ben rubbed his hand over his mouth as his co-pilot continued to harangue him. Sometimes making runs with Chewbacca made him think his father was right there alongside him. “Chewie. We’ve got half the load, and that’ll still be more than Kento is looking for.” He let the Wookiee go on a little more. “Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know. I got it. I’ll sort it out or we’ll just...open the port and drop him. I don’t know! No...no, ripping his arm off is just going to make a mess. I’ll go stow him. I’m good.” Ben stood up as he turned his seat around. “Okay, General, Chewie doesn’t like the smell of your hair product, so why don’t you come with me and I’ll stick you somewhere for the ride.”

Hux looked up at him with his pale eyebrows up raised and his head slightly to the side. His entire demeanor screamed ‘this is embarrassing,’ and he shook his head as he unbuckled himself and stood up, brushing off his pants before exiting the cockpit.

“Fantastic,” Hux muttered, standing up straight once he was in the hall. He glanced over at Ben. “You have got to be one of the most ill-equipped kidnappers in the universe.”

“I’m generally not transporting people. That’s not really my thing. I don’t go in for stealing kids and stuff, that’s more your line of work, right?” Ben took his time as they walked, feeling the mounting annoyance from the man at his side. “Besides, you haven’t even said thank you yet.”

Hux shook his head again. He was being baited, and it was infuriating. He wanted to be back on his ship, and not just because it meant he would be away from the stench of Wookiee.

“For what?”

“Giving you a ride on the _Falcon_!” Ben’s grin was crooked and a little self-teasing, but the pride he felt for his ship was genuine. “What do you think of her?”

The general stared at Ben, not saying anything for at least five seconds. He glanced around the ship as if taking it all in again.

“Mine’s bigger.”

Ben’s eyebrows just about hit his hairline.

“If we were really talking size, sweet cheeks…” He shook his head and looked around. In fairness, after that last run to Iridonia, a bit more dusting could probably do the _Millennium Falcon_ a favor. He looked back to the general again. “You’ve got those new ships that Sienar-Jaemus is making. Don’t look surprised; I like to poke around into stuff. Brand new TIEs. Have you ever flown one? No, you don’t look like a pilot. But tell me, what do you have that’s bigger? What’s your personal ship there, Arrik?”

Not looking at the smuggler, Hux shrugged. It seemed useless to keep information from this man, especially information as readily available as his ship assignment.

“I’m the commanding officer on the _Finalizer_ ,” Hux said, allowing his mild curiosity to take reign as he walked past the smuggler, into the main den area of the _Falcon_. “It’s a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer.”

Ben couldn’t keep himself from frowning. For a Victory kid brought up at the forefront of the New Republic, he knew exactly what that meant.

“A Star Destroyer. Where’d you find one of those old things? You’re going to mock out the _Falcon_ , while you’re flying around in some rickety old Imperial piece of junk?” He shook his head. “Careful with that. The cannons aren’t stable on those anymore. There have been cases of downed Destroyers spontaneously exploding when the cannons went.” The unspoken question was there in his condemnation of the old class of ships. What in the three- layered hell made it Resurgent class?

“You’ve misunderstood,” Hux said mildly, keeping his pride out of his voice. “My ship is new. It’s based on the old Imperials, just...” he glanced over at Ben, frowning slightly, “better.”

“Your group’s too small to manufacture them yourselves; you don’t have the equipment. Sienar-Jaemus doesn’t work that big either. Who’s building them for you?” Ben wasn’t sure why he was asking. Personal curiosity, or his mother’s need to know?

Hux shrugged and went over to sit on the booth’s cushions, eyebrows creasing further as the cushions let out a squeak. “We have another company.”

Ben remained standing, arms crossed over his chest. He stood a little differently when he was asking questions like this.

“Who?” Any company doing it was in a gross breach of the act that had demilitarized the remnants of the Galactic Empire. Obviously the First Order had been having illegal dealings for a while (ahem, that was precisely where the weapons they were currently hauling had come from), but it was one thing to give some Outer Rim whackjobs crates of blasters and another thing entirely to design and build Star Destroyers for them.

Glancing up at Ben, Hux quickly weighed his options. Giving him simple pieces of information even some of the lowest ranking NCO’s knew seemed a small price to pay to dissuade Ben Solo from pushing into his mind again.

“The same people who made them for the Empire.”

Ben’s face had gone still again, and he inhaled slowly as he raised his chin. This, really, had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t as though there was any profit to be made from knowledge like this, and he wanted to stay out of it. But with Kuat-Entralia back in their old game, that wasn’t the sort of vessel that would be made for little shows of petulant power out on the borders of the Unknown Regions. That was a war class ship. AS the name implied, that was a ship meant to destroy.

“How many are there?” He’d asked it before he could help himself.

Ben was as easy to read as a fresh-made officer. Hux shifted again, the booth protesting loudly, and he made a noise in return, disgust and annoyance.

“Enough,” he said, looking back to Ben. “I’m not in charge of fleet production.”

“Can’t be that many,” Ben returned, shrugging and trying to recover his blase attitude toward the whole situation. “The First Order doesn’t have that type of funding.”

Hux sighed, crossing his arms and sitting back. “If that’s all, I’d like to be taken to whatever semblance of a cell I’m to be kept in.”

“Yeah? You’d like that? Then get up already.” Ben uncrossed his arms and walked closer to him. “You’ll be bunking over here.” He waited a few seconds for the general to rise then walked him around to one of the small doors that led off the main concourse. He had to hit the button twice to make it open. Mentally adding that to the ongoing list of maintenance items, Ben gestured for Hux to walk into the small room. It had a bunk that folded down from the wall, a shelf that doubled as a small desk, and a chair that had seen better days, along with a tiny wash basin fixed to the opposite wall. There were also crates of various goods that Ben had collected and hadn’t known what to do with, liked to have, or which had ended up being totally worthless. “There you go. I’m sure it’s not up to your usual standards, but I figure you Outer Rim types are good at adapting to situations nobody wants to be in.”

If there was a word for shocked, disappointed, angry, and embarrassed, it would have described Hux’s feelings almost perfectly. He glanced around the room, hands behind his back as he looked over the ill-kept berth.

“The legendary _Falcon_ does not disappoint,” he said sarcastically, eyebrows up as he glanced back at Ben before walking into the small room and sitting on the bed. The general looked down at the foam padding, realizing that there was no insignificant amount of dust covering it. This entire thing bordered on ridiculous, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Solo was a skilled Force user, he was sure that this would have gone differently somehow.

“Where are you taking me?”

Ben shrugged, leaning negligently in the doorway. Now that he had the general here, he wasn’t sure what to do with him at all. Obviously, he had nothing personal to gain from having him here. There was no reward for bringing him in. General Hux was the errant son of a dead war criminal, part of an organization the New Republic denied the existence of. The information Hux had wasn’t anything a smuggler could use, apart from maybe the dates and locations of a few key supply shipments. By and large, the information he had would best suit the Resistance. Another group people ignored. It was a weird situation to be in.

“Not sure yet. I could still dump you off on some random planet. Endor’s nice this time of year.” He watched the other man for a minute. “Hey, do you have anything on you that’s trackable?”

Hux’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t move, his posture something tense and wary. It was far too obvious for a trained general, but he didn’t want Solo thinking him too clever. Honestly, trackers should have been the first thing the man looked for, and Hux didn’t think it imperative that he reveal them.

However, the lack of answer was the answer. Ben pushed himself off the doorframe, standing up straight.

“You’re going to want to give me those now.” He was mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it first, but, as he’d said, capturing war criminals wasn’t his usual thing. He held his hand out, palm up. An invitation for Hux to do this the easy way.

The general frowned, expecting to feel some kind of compulsion. There was nothing, and he wasn’t so arrogant as to assume that he was simply resisting the Force involuntarily. He stood up, taking off his thick wool greatcoat, and pulled off the three code cylinders attached to his uniform.

Instead of handing them over to Ben, he dropped them on the floor and crushed them with two quick stomps of his boot, reducing them to useless bits of scrap. Granted, his tracking device had been in one of them, but so had First Order aquisitions, travel documents, passcodes. Destroying them meant that nobody could use his cylinders to access files or high-security areas. His cylinders would have been incredibly valuable, as they allowed him access to all the files regarding the new Starkiller Base. He glanced up at Ben, eyebrows up, his expression as neutral as if he had just tossed away a used tissue.

“Satisfied?”

At the question, the frustration that had come through earlier made another appearance, even as Ben fought it down. The hand by his side was already a fist, and as his eyes widened slightly, the tendons in his wrist tightened as though he wanted to do much more.

“No. Do you have anything else? Are you sure?” The smuggler took a deep breath and regained his outwardly calm demeanor, masking his temper rather than actually soothing it.

“You took my datapad and my comm already. I wasn’t expecting to leave the planet on a different ship than the one I arrived on,” Hux said, slightly annoyed, holding his hands out. “I don’t have anything else.” But, at the very least, he had prevented all of those sensitive materials from getting too far out of the Order’s grasp.

“You’re not what I expected,” Ben said finally after another long minute of silence between them. “You’re younger. More...petulant. Not quite how I see a general.”

Hux’s eyebrows came down quickly, and he glared at Ben with more annoyance than anger. He swallowed, and a dozen insults darted through his mind, each more personal than the last. The general finally shook his head, tilting his chin up slightly.

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” he said, almost sneering.

That reaction made Ben smile again and he was pleased to feel his anger receding. That dark part of him crept up more and more lately, and there wasn’t exactly anyone around to talk to about it. He couldn’t imagine bringing that up to his father. He’d take some time to meditate tonight, go through the exercises his uncle had taught him and continued to ask him about every time he saw him. That should do it.

“No, you’re right, you don’t. I’ve brushed up against a bunch of different flavors of fanatics, but your’s is sort of new. You lot paint a target right on yourselves.” Ben leaned in and tapped the First Order insignia on Hux’s uniform, with its toothed concentric rings of black and red and white.

Hux took a step back, still glaring at Ben.

“Maybe you’re the one with a target,” he responded, not looking away.

Yeah, that was the sort of threat he could live with. Ben laughed a little and stepped back out of the doorway.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right, sweet cheeks. Now you’ve got me quaking in my boots. Why don’t you have a nap, dream up your revenge?” He tilted his head. “Maybe I’ll bring some food by in a couple hours. I mean, obviously it won’t be what you’re used to, and I’m guessing you’re pickier than a barely weaned Huttlet, but maybe you’ll be hungry enough to suffer through it.”

Hux gestured as if he were dismissing a petty officer on his ship.

“As you were,” he muttered, taking another small step back and turning away from Ben, brushing off the bed before picking up his greatcoat, folding it neatly. He sat down again, looking around. “No books?”

“Afraid you’ll get bored?” Ben’s good humor had actually been restored by the general’s silly, baseless threat, and he was feeling a little generous. “Here.” He walked into the room, reaching to open one of the crates. He rooted around in it without even looking, pulling out the data stick he was looking for. “Here you go.” He handed it to Hux, then pointed to the panel by the desk. “You can access it there. And don’t think you’ll be able to contact anyone through that. It’s not comm enabled. We’re not complete rubes.”

“Well I would never assume that,” Hux said, almost rolling his eyes again as he took the data stick from Ben distrustingly.

“You act like that’s going to bite you. Relax. It’s just some holo stuff to keep you entertained.” He smirked at the other man. “I don’t know if you know what that means, but we generally use the word ‘entertain’ to mean something you’ll actually like or enjoy. Give it a shot.”

Hux raised his eyebrows, looking down at the little data holder.

“Fantastic.”

Ben reached over and punched his shoulder with a camaraderie that was all for show.

“That’s the enthusiasm we want.” He walked back to the door, then turned to face him again. “Trust me, I’m as keen to off load you as you are to get off my ship.”

The general didn’t respond but he glared at Ben’s shoulder as he retreated. He shifted, kicking the broken parts of the code cylinders with the toe of his boot. He just wanted to be left alone, out of the presence of this infuriating man. To Ben, all of this was pouting. The younglings training with his uncle acted that way when they hadn’t gotten their way.

“Then I’ll see you later, general. Enjoy your stay.”

Hux made another dismissive gesture, pulling his greatcoat up and lying down to watch the ceiling, his head on the neatly folded woolen fabric. He didn’t say anything, lacing his fingers together on his torso and staring upwards.

Ben closed the door behind himself when he left the small room (this time, at least, it hadn’t taken extra coaxing) and made sure to lock it. The last thing they needed was that man wandering the ship. He walked back to the central area and pulled the general’s datapad out of his bag, powering it up curiously. He couldn't get it to unlock, and after a few minutes he put it aside. He had his business to worry about, Ben still needed to figure out how to deliver the weapons, explain the General to his father and stay a three steps ahead of the First Order. Even if they didn't know where Hux was they had to know he was gone. He sighed. Tomorrow this would make more sense.


	2. Chapter 2

After Ben left, Hux quickly undid the first fastener on his jacket, reaching into it to pull out a fourth, very small cylinder code. It was much smaller than the rest of them, and he turned the top of it counterclockwise. There was a small tick and a faint white glow.

“This is General Arrik Hux, authorization code BW-52, Protocol 40. I have been captured by Ben Solo, I am onboard the Corellian vessel _Millennium Falcon_.” He took a deep breath, glancing at the door. “Rescue attempts should be delayed until further orders are received. Alert high command of my status and monitor this situation carefully. End transmission.”

He pulled the little cylinder off his neck, standing quickly and looking around. The code would project on any frequency, piggybacking on transmissions heading outwards from its location. It would be nearly undetectable for the remainder of his journey...wherever they were going. He pushed aside a couple crates, finding the grate that sent filtered air through the entire ship. Fighting the grill off with a loud metallic protest, he tossed the cylinder down the chute, confident that the titanium cylinder would protect it. He shoved the crates back into place and walked to lie down on the bed, refastening his jacket.

A few hours later, after plenty more scolding from Chewbacca and a hard-won promise that the Wookiee wouldn’t tell Han about what was going on, Ben carried a plate of food to their makeshift brig. He typed in the code to unlock the door and peered into the room for Hux as it slid open.

“You awake in here? I brought you something to eat, if you’re interested.” He stepped in and set the metal plate down on the desk. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, not even close, but Ben had developed a skill at a young age to make the types of food his father kept on his ships into palatable meals. The trick was spices, so while the galley had a limited number of ingredients (largely beans and grains from whatever planets they’d stopped at last), there was an entire cabinet dedicated to dried herbs and spices arranged by flavor, then color.

Hux had only slept for a few minutes, and he was alert when Ben came in again. He shifted to sit up on the bed, pushing his hair back, looking up at Solo as he put the plate of food down. He wasn’t about to starve himself for any principle, and he had eaten much worse during his time on Arkanis, and even on the _Finalizer_ when he had forgotten to visit the mess hall.

He nodded once, then frowned at the plate. This was a meal off Ben’s own table.

Ben gestured to the plate, then stood with his hands on his hips.

“Oh come on, it’s not drugged or poisoned. I don’t have time to deal with that, and you’ve been pretty quiet in here. So go on, eat it. There’s clean water from the sink; that’s what we have too.”

“Are you going to wait there until you see me eat it?” Hux glanced up at him, eyebrows up.

“No. Hey, if you’ve got eating hang ups, that’s fine with me.” Ben held his hands up good-naturedly as he backed up to the door. “Have a good night, sweet cheeks.”

“I don’t have hang ups,” Hux muttered, shifting a little on the seat. He looked from Ben to the food again and then at the floor, running his hand through his hair, some parts of it just barely falling down his face.

Ben watched him for a minute, blinking twice before he said anything.

“Is there something else you need for that plate? Or something you need not to be there?” Again, it was his mother’s hospitality that came through sometimes.

Hux frowned, shaking his head. He glanced up at Ben, confused and annoyed.

”Are you sure you don’t want to stay and feed me too?” he asked nastily.

Ben rolled his eyes and held his hands up again, his momentary empathy snapped.

“Like I said, you have a good night there, general. I’ll see you when I bring something inedible to tempt you for breakfast.” He shrugged, standing outside the doorway. “Or Chewie can drop it off. Whatever.” He closed the door and made sure he locked it.

Any kind of preparation that Arrik had for being taken prisoner had been undermined by the appearance of a man like Ben Solo. Young, impulsive, maybe even a little lost, and...Hux glanced over at the food, kind? He left the bed to sit on the rickety chair, shifting a little to start eating the food.

He had definitely eaten worse. After he finished, he pushed the plate back and stood up, walking around the small room.

Ben didn’t return for hours after that, with the ship’s approximation of ‘night’ occurring an hour or two after the smuggler had brought the food. The lights in the small room dimmed and the shipwide temperature dropped. There were a few folded blankets in a crate underneath the bed, though they hadn’t been used in a while.

In the small berth, Hux spent the hours sleeping in two hour shifts, getting up and walking back and forth in the room. He pulled his greatcoat on as it got colder, and looked around for blankets, finding them and laying them across the small bed. He was terrible at waiting, and even worse at staying still. He wasn’t used to being useless.

He sat on the bed, fingers crossed, elbows on his knees, staring at the wall ahead of him. He needed to find a better way to contact the _Finalizer_ , Mitaka, Derr'wan Phasma, anyone who would be looking for him now that it would be obvious that he had gone missing. It was hard to rely on the beacon he’d dropped into the ventilation.

It was Chewbacca who brought breakfast in the morning, which was a reworking of dinner with some spiced jerky added to the plate. The Wookiee didn’t have much to say to the First Order general, but that didn’t stop him from sharing it, though he was pretty sure the ginger man didn’t understand a word he said. Hux stayed still and quiet as the Wookiee came in, his eyes slightly wide as he interpreted the roars as something like a threat that seemed much more gruesome than whatever Ben had threatened earlier. Chewbacca dropped the plate on the desk and took the one from dinner, roaring one more time with obvious menace before leaving the general alone again.

Then it was hours of solitary time again, with neither Chewbacca nor Ben stopping in to see Hux, not even to collect the empty plate.

The general was not a patient man. He paced back and forth across the cell for hours, plugged in one of the data sticks and then promptly snapped it in half in an unusual fit of emotion. It was maddening, and he knew that this sort of behaviour wouldn’t make him appear in control or calm, although he had already figured that any appearances he put on would be taken apart by Ben easily.

His pacing was interrupted when he heard the door mechanism. Ben was already talking as he opened the door with Hux’s dinner in hand.

“We’ll be arriving at our drop off in a few hours, so don’t panic when you hear the landing procedure starting. Our meeting shouldn’t take long, but you’ll be in here anyway, so I don’t know if it’ll really make a difference to you.” The smuggler set Hux’s fresh dinner plate down; it was again the same basic ingredients, but this time in shades of blue from the spices used. “I’m hoping to pick up the stuff to make green fire sauce, but Melahnese spices don’t come up for trade that often.” He picked up the empty plate and looked over at the general. “How was breakfast? Chewie said you didn’t seem talkative.”

Hux frowned, looking up at Ben.

“I don’t speak Shyriiwook,” Hux explained, shifting a little, his back cracking. He frowned, looking over at the plate. “You do the cooking?”

“Yeah, most of the time. Chewie refuses and will just pass out nutrient paste, which my father despises. However, my father cooks everything to a very fine char. This is nothing fancy. I’m not cooking fodu here.” Ben shrugged, thumb hooked in his belt. “My mother can’t cook either. There you go. Big Republic secret for you.”

The man glanced at the plate and then looked down again. Despite his calm exterior, the general was anxious, frustrated, and annoyed, and all of his emotions were right at the forefront of his consciousness. He almost hoped that Ben could feel this sort of tightly wound tension hanging around him.

The First Order officer glanced to the side, then rolled his shoulders and set his jaw. “Where are we landing?”

Ben could feel the emotions pouring out of Hux in waves; just because the other man was hiding them beneath a very cool, trained facade, that didn’t mean he had any idea how to actually hide them from someone trained to hone in on things like that. He didn’t even need to exert any effort to feel that. What he wasn’t really trained in was what to do with that knowledge.

“I don’t think you need to know that. What does it matter?” he asked, walking back to the door. He didn’t leave right away though, just stood with his back against the frame.

Although his expression didn’t change, the denial made Hux’s blood boil over. He felt every slight, every disrespect so keenly. He had worked so hard to be above that, to get the kind of fear and respect that meant he wouldn’t have to deal with this sort of disregard.

His demeanor would fool just about everyone else, but he wasn’t sure what Ben would know. He shifted forwards, lacing his fingers together, elbows on his knees.

“No reason, apparently.”

“If you want someone to talk to, you can always just say it,” Ben said with a smile that was too forward, too easy in this situation. The fact of the matter was that while he wasn’t quite sure to do with Hux; he wasn’t afraid of him or awed by him or even confused by him. He was just a guest on his ship who was also sort of a prisoner. That’s all.

Every suggestion infuriated Hux further, in no small part because he was just confused by the entire situation. He shook his head and looked down again, shoulders tense. It was a struggle to reconcile the way that he was being treated and the fact that his actual situation was more dire than simply being invited to spend a few nights on the _Falcon_.

Ben watched him for a second longer, then shrugged. What was he supposed to do? Hux wasn’t supposed to even be there! Why was a high ranking First Order officer counting off crates of weapons on some tiny little planet in the Outer Rim? Really, he’d brought this on himself. It wasn’t Ben’s fault. He was just doing this job.

“Well, then I’ll let you eat up. When we get back from the drop off, I’ll let you out of there to clean up, if you want. Don’t need you stinking up the ship.” He smiled again.

Hux glared up at Ben, his jaw tight.

“Your Wookiee has already taken care of that,” he snapped before looking down again. His shoulders remained tense, and it was obvious even under the thick wool of the greatcoat draped over his shoulders. “Try not to accidentally kidnap anyone else. Your ship is quite ill-suited for holding prisoners.”

“Is that your way of telling me you don’t want a roommate? Fine, fine.” Ben laughed and stepped back out into the hallway. “I’ll bring something by before we land, in case negotiations take longer than I figure. Don’t want you starving in here.”

Hux frowned, looking up again.

“Negotiations for what?”

“The weapons, obviously. You didn’t think I wanted all those crates for myself, did you?” Ben shook his head. “Now, you did sort of put me off my goal, but we still got about half, which should be okay. I hope. If not, well...I’ll figure out something.”

“I hope that I haven’t cut into your profits,” Hux sneered, sitting back and tilting his head up to glare at him. “Considering you’re selling my weapons.”

“Well, let’s be reasonable. They weren’t all for your personal use either. I mean...I doubt you’re really comfortable even firing that blaster I got from you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever actually fired it?”

“Simply because I’m an officer and not a trooper doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to fire my own blaster,” Hux said sharply. “If you’d like, I can show you.” He had been trained at Arkanis Academy and had received top marks consistently. It was no small point of pride that Hux knew his marksmanship to be exceptional.

“I’m going to just take your word for it.” He patted the First Order blaster on his thigh. He had put his own gun aside when he’d gotten dressed after his sleep shift. “But I should thank you, general; this is a fine weapon.”

Hux snorted, looking down at his knees again. “Enjoy it,” he said, annoyed and frustrated. He took a deep breath. “How long will this take?”

“Well...we’re four hours out from landing, give or take, then hopefully Kento doesn’t keep us waiting...I’d give us two hours for the transfer.” Which meant that in seven hours, Ben Solo would have to figure out what the hell he was going to do with Arrik Hux, because after that he had only one more pick up before heading back to his father’s freighter.

The officer nodded and tried very hard to push down all of his emotions which bubbled right on the surface of his thoughts. He was still fairly helpless, but he knew that two hours out of hyperspace was more than enough for his cylinder to piggyback on thousands of signals, all spread out throughout the galaxy. It wouldn’t be picked up by any of the _Falcon_ ’s transmissions, since it sent random small pings outwards along waves sent within the two klick radius.

It was just frustrating. This entire thing was simply a massive hassle. If Ben Solo had just kept his presence a secret he might have been able to get off-world without a hitch, even if his precious supply would be cut off. Hux was angrily determined to spend as little time in this ship as humanly possible.

“Well...then I’ll see you at snack time.” Ben paused, then laughed. “If it’s a rocky landing, just…” He gestured vaguely with a hand that seemed to take in the whole berth. “Sometimes things shift. Watch your head.” Still chuckling to himself, he stepped back and closed the door again.

As the smuggler left, Hux stood, first going to the food and pushing it away, then ducking under the desk and looking around. He turned and glared at the crates and decided now would be the time to go through them, and he carefully started to stack and open each one, going through their contents.

A few hours later, the drop out of hyperspace was as jarring as Ben had promised it would be. Even though he had been warned, Hux was still unprepared for the sheer drop that accompanied their entrance into realspace. He glared at the door as if Ben were leaning there. He was sure that this was willful endangerment. The ship shuddered around them before settling, and by Ben’s standards, that hadn’t been a bad transition at all.

Hux knew that if he was going to get out of this cell, it had to be now. He assumed that Ben would take the Wookiee with him, since even a Force-using smuggler needed backup at a drop off. He waited at the door, frowning as he tried to hear the hiss of the hydraulics that would indicate the ramp had dropped.

Ben helped Chewbacca load up the cart with a few crates of the weapons. He wasn’t going to haul out all their shipment until he was sure that Kento was going to give him a fair price on it. While he knew he had methods to make sure that it happened, he also knew that those methods were frowned upon, even as they were easy. So easy. Using the Force made everything easy, from making ship repairs on his own when he needed an extra hand to grab a wrench to holding a broken window in place during a landing (though he’d passed out for an entire day after that incident). It came naturally to him, but half of the actions that accompanied that ease were sternly forbidden. Not just by his uncle Luke; Leia had been very clear about things with her son. Things that were too easy, things that imposed too much on others’ wills, things that were based in anger- again, there was that dark side fear. Ben was a little fascinated by that level of power (who wouldn’t be?), but tales about his grandfather were always given with vague details and ended with morals. Apparently too many questions veered you dangerously close to the dark side as well.

After they’d landed, he forgot about his promise to drop off a snack to their unwilling guest as he punched the button to lower the ramp. Leaving Chewie to guide the hovercart, Ben walked ahead. He’d even washed his face and combed his hair to meet with his customers.

While the crew was gone, Hux began to inspect the room, drawing his hands down the door, wishing that the drop out of hyperspace had rattled something loose. No such luck. Did he want to start breaking things in his berth in the hopes that he would find a tool to help him get out of the berth? It seemed futile, and he didn’t want to risk any Ben adding on more security measures if he were to be caught trying to make any kind of escape attempt. Hux made a noise, slamming his hand against the door before taking a step back, breathing hard.

He was stuck.

It shouldn’t have been such a revelation to him; he was a prisoner, but now it seemed even more unlikely that he would leave here without an outside rescue of some kind. His only consolation was that the small cylinder code was sending out hundreds of pings every minute, broadcasting his location and orders onto the frequencies monitored by the First Order.

After staring at the door for ten minutes, his hands clenched into fists by his sides, he finally made a noise and went back over to sit on the bed. Annoyed and frustrated, he put his elbows on his knees and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to maintain his composure as he waited for his captors to return.

Meanwhile, while there were plenty of insults exchanged, the deal went off without a major hitch. Ben was all smiles and reassurances that his next shipment would be twice this size, and hey, maybe there would even be some bonus stuff included. With this promise on the table, Kento had prepaid his next order, which was good, because the Solos owed money to the Gerun clan and that had probably been outstanding a little too long.

When the _Falcon_ took off again, it didn’t fly too long; the market they’d planned to stop off at for supplies was just on the other side of the planet. It was another hour and a half before Hux’s berth door slid halfway open. Ben swore under his breath and hit the control panel again. The door whined but didn’t move until he actually got into the doorway and shoved against the edge of the door with his boot.

“I’m telling you, that kriffing door is going to be the death of me,” he muttered as he stepped into the room. He was carrying two plates.

Hux had barely moved, although his hands hand gotten into his hair. He glanced up at Ben as he finally stepped into the room. He frowned, seeing the two plates in Ben’s hands, and he looked up at his face.

“You’re eating with me?”

“Yeah, why not?” Ben shrugged and held one of the plates out to him before sitting down at the desk with his own. The door was still open, but he was completely relaxed. The general wouldn’t actually make it past him, and if by some one in a million chance he did, Chewie was out there.

Hux was frowning, and he sat up a little straighter, shaking his head slightly. It didn’t make sense, why eat with a prisoner. It was, it should have been...beneath the captor to associate with the prisoner. He had barely touched the blue-green curry that Ben had brought in earlier, and smelling the plates made his appetite spike. He accepted his plate without a word, still angry as he looked down at his meal.

Ben had already started on his own, pointing to a scrambled brown section on the plate.

“Vakiir eggs, fresh. The next couple of days we’ll eat well; having fresh food, right after you get paid, mm, nothing tastes better.” Ben nodded to himself, impressed with his own cooking.

Hux shifted, and he kept his eyes on Ben as he started to eat very carefully, picking at each piece of food individually. Ben noted it all, the way Hux held his fork, the way he was obviously prioritizing certain foods over others, the neat way each piece was speared.

“I can’t take credit for those biscuits. I grabbed a tray of them.” He paused and watched Hux again for a second. “Don’t you like any of it?” The personal offense was impossible to keep out of his voice entirely.

Hux’s attention had drifted to his food as he ate carefully, deliberately. He glanced up at Ben, confused.

“I’m eating it,” he said, gesturing with his fork slightly. Hux swallowed, watching Ben carefully, still confused. “It’s...a decent meal.”

Ben’s smile was far more excited than a simple compliment like that called for. Praise wasn’t something he got often, and he liked it. A lot. However, he just shrugged as he kept eating.

“It’s those eggs. I’ve had them powdered; they’re really just not the same.” He glanced over to see how much Hux had left.

The general was eating steadily, and he had about half his plate left as he went through and ate the root vegetable and smoked meat hash that accompanied the eggs.

“I can’t imagine that anything powdered would be enjoyable.”

Ben shrugged, looking down at his plate to herd some of the hash into the runny center of the egg.

“I’d imagine that in the military, you’d get stuff like that all the time. That’s how the First Order is, right? All military, all the time?” He looked over at the other man again.

Hux shrugged, looking down at his plate. “I haven’t had anything like that in a long time,” he said, still eating slowly.

“Higher position means gourmet food, hmm?” Ben finished off his eggs and sat back, knowing exactly how to balance the chair so it didn’t topple when he leaned it. He was so comfortable; he pushed the chair back far enough to put his boots up on the desk, crossed at the ankle.

“Something like that,” Hux said, glancing up at the smuggler. He shifted slightly, his greatcoat falling off his shoulders. “Now that you’ve made your money, where are we going?” Although his face might not read it, he was uncomfortable talking about this with Ben. Usually he wouldn't care, but Ben threw him off in a way he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with. He needed to find an advantage and press it, but judging from the pose Ben held, balancing on the spindly chair easily, he wasn’t sure how much of a foothold he’d be able to catch onto.

Ben took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest.

“Well, that’s a question.” He unfolded his arms again and leaned forward, reaching over the desk to grab Hux’s half full glass of water that was sitting there. He casually took a sip before setting it down again. “I have to pick up a shipment my father’s expecting but can’t rendezvous with in time. I say shipment; it’s a single item. Whatever. After that, well...I get the coordinates for the _Pin Eagle_ and we go meet up. There. With my father.” He pulled a face as he leaned back comfortably again, balance perfect. “It gets a little murky at that point.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed as he watched Ben take the glass from next to his hand. It was so casual, so familiar, and it made Hux bristle with something close to indignation. He didn’t allow anyone to interact with him like this.

He took a deep breath, ignoring his annoyance, registering that Ben seemed rather off-put when talking about his father. The general shifted again, taking a sip from the glass and then pushing his hair back off his forehead.

“Murky...because of me?” he said, rather than asked, eyebrows raised.

Ben nodded slowly, not even looking at the general. He was moving his fingers slightly and rotating the cup on the desk as he considered his words. The cup was about six inches away from his hand.

Hux found this fascinating for some morbid reason that he couldn’t quite describe. Anger and annoyance seemed to be his feelings towards everything that Ben did, but this was some more unnatural reaction. He set his jaw, glancing up at Ben as he started talking again.

“Well, let me be straight with you, sweet cheeks.” Ben looked over at the other man, tilting his chin up slightly. The light in the little berth was harsh and the smuggler was a study in sharp contrasts, with the lighter skin he’d gotten from his mother and the black, worn clothes he patched but didn’t replace. “My father’s first words are going to be some version of ‘why don’t we just jettison him into space.’”

“Gruesome,” Hux said, sitting back. He crossed his arms and legs, tilting his head to the side as he watched Ben. The smuggler knew how to make an impression, even if his demeanor was that of a child with another’s toy. “And your mother would try to use me for political capital, I’m assuming,” he stated blandly, as if each option were equally distasteful. “Sounds like you have a decision to make,” Hux said, making every attempt to appear disinterested, “considering I am your prisoner.”

“Yeah, and Chewie thinks you eat too much.” Ben smiled broadly at the general, leaning back so far it seemed impossible that the chair didn’t succumb to gravity. “So here’s a question, just hypothetical. How much would your Order pay to get you back?”

Hux wanted him to fall so badly it was palatable. He didn’t think he would ever be used to these displays.

“They wouldn’t pay in credits, if that’s what you’re after,” he said, face impassive, “but they would spend time and effort to ensure my return.”

“So you’re saying they’d try a rescue mission but they’re not ready to negotiate. Huh. Too bad nobody knows where you are to rescue you. It’s not like you got nabbed by the Resistance.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows. “They’re unlikely to go hunting for you on a Corellian smuggling vessel. Hey, do you think they’ll assume you deserted? Went to the New Republic?”

“If you’d like to try negotiating with the Order, I can almost guarantee that you will fail,” Hux took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders slightly, leaning back to watch Ben’s chair. He was sure that any second now he would topple. “They would not think I deserted.”

Ben pulled his weight forward, bringing the chair back down onto all its legs with a resounding bang. He leaned toward Hux, elbows on his thighs. His hair was coming loose from the tie he’d pulled it back in, and it framed his face more as the shorter pieces fell down around it.

“So what you’re telling me is that monetarily, you’re worthless to me.” He raised his eyebrows and watched the other man’s expression as he continued. “Your own group won’t pay for you, the Republic doesn’t think you’re important enough to be worth credits, and the Resistance isn’t in a position to be paying out bounties. It really does come down to tossing you off ship like my father will want to or just handing you over to my mother as a late birthday present.” He paused. “Early birthday present, I guess, actually.”

Hux shrugged, pale blue eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Ben.

“If you want to try to negotiate with the Order, go ahead, but I doubt you’ll get very far at all,” he said softly, watching Ben’s face carefully. His eyes flicked over Ben, along his jawline, his mouth, trying to see all the tics, trying to weigh him and evaluate him, clawing for that advantage. “Are credits your only measure of value?”

“I’m a smuggler. How else should I measure your value, general?” Ben’s voice dropped a little in volume and timbre. All things even, he was still uncertain about what to do with the officer. Ben himself was no supporter of the First Order; he knew that their encroaching attacks had definitely hit travelers like him as well as Republican ships. The last time he’d been home with his mother, Leia had talked to him at length about the Order’s increasing activity in the Outer Rim, their hostile takeovers on planets the Republic hadn’t even had a chance to reach out to yet, and their commandeering of ships and shipments of supplies. He knew why she’d told him all of it as well. Every time he talked to her, the main message of their conversations was ‘come home, Ben.’

He knew that it wasn’t just his mother’s maternal side that motivated her. Leia believed his powers would be best used in service to the New Republic. Ben had told her about his doubts about where the dark and light sides clashed in him, but her drive was singular. Often there was the added subtle (or as subtle as a mother like General Organa would be with her only child) suggestion that he finish out his training; his uncle still considered him a padawan, and always welcomed him back to the temple to train. But he couldn’t let any of them have his loyalty because there was always something missing when he’d tried to apply himself, over and over. So he always ran away again, back to where his father had the perfect adventure waiting for him, with no questions asked about the time he was away apart from a brief “so, how’s your mother?”

While he considered all those things, Hux was studying him. Ben had leaned forward, but Hux kept his stiff posture, just...watching him. He was trying to find some kind of weakness, some kind of desire, something that he could capitalize on. He wanted to exploit this man, much like Ben wanted to exploit him. There was something else underneath the casual question, and Hux’s eyes stayed fixed on the smuggler.

“You could measure my value proportionate to my knowledge, and how that would be a benefit to you. Same with my power, my connections. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you how I might make it happen.”

Ben tilted his head the same way Hux had, meeting the general’s pale eyes with his own dark steady gaze.

“I’m not an idiot. Your knowledge is all military, and I have that in spades if I want it. I already have access to your weapons, oops.” He shrugged. “I don’t have enough dirt on you to keep myself safe, and you’re the incorruptible type. I can’t offer to share a profit with you like I have some in the lower ranks of your Order because you’re too much of a zealot to understand how that would benefit you in the long run.” He saw it suddenly, flipped the other way. Supply runs went both ways. Just as he was stealing from the First Order now, he could be supplying them. Obviously, there were large corporations who were willing to play within the loopholes of the Republic’s laws, or to just flout the regulations entirely. There had to be some profit in it.

How little loyalty did he actually have?

His expression didn’t give him away.

“So offer me something, general.” He leaned back in the chair again, fully trusting its minimal integrity to keep him upright.

Frowning a little, Hux shook his head.

“You underestimate what I can give you,” he said carefully, enunciating every word. “But it’s being made apparent that all you’re after is money and an unbroken supply chain, so perhaps my estimation of you was too high.” He shook his head, shifting again, hands down on the bed. “Ask for something, Ben. Get creative.”

Ben watched him for a minute, then laughed and spread his hands.

“I don’t know what you’re angling for here, general. You can’t offer me anything that I can’t go take for myself. That’s the piece of this you’re missing. I make my own opportunities, and yeah, okay, you sort of got in the way. You’re a yes-man in a war machine that can’t seem to find its way into a war.” He held his hand out and with a slight tensing of his brow, pulled the cup to it, then drank the rest of the water.

“You consider access to warehouses opportunities? You said yourself you’re trying to figure out which parent would appreciate me more, it’s not as if you’re making any real decisions.” The general rolled his eyes, shaking his head again.

“That’s only because you have no actual worth to me!” Ben slammed the cup down hard on the desk. “Do you get it now? The only reason I’m not dumping you off on any random planet because I want to keep this Kessel weapons run around a little bit longer until I figure out where else to skim them from.”

“You only say that I have no worth because you don’t know what you want,” Hux ventured, eyebrows up. He wasn’t intimidated at all by the display of anger. “Don’t you have any ambitions at all?”

“Ambitions? What do you have on offer that’s going to tempt me? You’ll wave my enlistment fee to your stormtrooper club? You’ll get me one of those coats?” Ben shook his head. “I’ve turned down a position in the Senate. Among...other things. The First Order doesn’t really have anything I want, except guns that other people want.”

“So it’s all about a paycheck for you?” Hux asked, utterly unimpressed and slightly disappointed. All this history, all this weight, and Ben Solo settled on something so simple, so vacant, so abundant and mundane. It was...pathetic. “All you want in this entire universe is money?”

Ben’s jaw had tightened as Hux continued; something about his calm, bland, vaguely disgusted delivery enraged the young man. The empty cup rattled on the desk even though the _Falcon_ was flying smoothly. He stood up and, with one sweeping gesture of his open hand, sent one of the opened crates flying across the berth to crash into another stack of them.

He stood like that for a second, catching his breath and gathering his calm. When he spoke, his voice was almost level.

“You don’t know anything about what I want. All you want is to play at the glory days of the Empire. Don’t presume to know anything about me. You have no idea where I’ve come from.” He lowered his hand to his side.

The movements surprised the general, but it didn’t make him angry. It made him more interested. Hux leaned forwards, looking up at Ben.

“I’m not assuming anything, Solo,” Hux said quietly, not moving away at all. He remained sitting on the bed, eyes up on the taller man. “You have made every indication that money is your only motivation. If there is something else that you want, then tell me.”

It came to Hux in a sudden realization. There was a reason this man had been making excuses, searching after the most common desire in the universe (who didn’t want money, the ease of ample credits in an account?). The general blinked, looking surprised, and then almost amused for a second, although his expression barely changed.

“Have you ever been asked what you wanted before?” Hux smirked, leaning back on his hands and still looking up at Ben. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of prince?”

“I’m guessing it came up in your Imperial history lessons, but the planet my mother was princess of was blown up. By the Galactic Empire. I’m sure the Death Star is something you got off to at least a few times in your school days.” Ben shook his head once, still not entirely in control of his emotions.

To his right, the cup rolled off the desk and onto the floor with a light metallic clang.

“I’ve looked over the schematics and found them wanting,” Hux said, shrugging. “You still haven’t told me what you want. Money and...” He ducked his head a little, cold eyes still on Ben, eyebrows raised archly.

Ben still looked angry and slightly unsettled.

“Nothing you can offer me,” he repeated. “Nothing.”

Hux made a noise, staring up at Ben unblinking. He shifted forwards to stand, and he met the other man’s gaze steadily.

“Try me.”

Ben lifted his chin slightly, as though to give himself a little more of a height advantage than he had.

“I don’t think we need to be having this discussion. I already told you, there’s nothing.” The smuggler stared back at Hux. This man didn’t know him. And of all the people in the universe, this was not the man he would take into his trust and allow that privilege.

Hux snorted under his breath, glancing over at the disturbed crates before facing Ben. He watched him for a few seconds and then shrugged one shoulder.

“Then I can’t help you.”

“I never asked for your help,” Ben said in a harsh voice before he turned to the door. “We’ll arrive in six hours. Someone will bring you food then.”

Hux frowned as Ben turned away, feeling opportunity slipping through his hands.

“Are you that afraid of what you want? Have so many people told you no?” Hux stepped forward, letting some of his anger seep through.

“It’s not the type of thing you ask for. It’s the thing you let alone.” Ben pressed his mouth into an ugly shape, still turned away from the general. “You of all people wouldn’t understand. You only know one thing, and you believe it.”

“You deride me for making assumptions about you and yet you do the same of me and my motivations,” Hux said, frowning as he watched Ben’s back, standing totally still. “I want to return to my ship.” He paused as if he could prompt Ben without saying anything. “Tell me what you want.”

Ben didn’t turn to face him. He didn’t think he could look anyone in the eye and say this. He couldn’t even say it to himself, out loud. It should stay in the dark.

“I want to know the full extent of my abilities. The full heritage of my family. All of it. Not the clean, censored version I’m allowed. I want to know who I am and what I’m capable of.” It sounded strange aloud, hollow. But he felt the words burning in his chest and suddenly he hated himself for telling this man. Of anyone, this man. His only consolation was the fact that General Arrik Hux wouldn’t fully understand the implications of his admission.

The general’s frown deepened, but he didn’t move. Most members of the Empire’s elite knew that Luke and Leia had been Darth Vader’s children; that fact hadn’t exactly been kept a fantastic secret. Hux himself had investigated the magnificent political rise to power of Sheev Palpatine, and everything connected Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, and the former Emperor. He swallowed before taking a deep breath in.

“If that is what you want, I can facilitate that sort of,” he paused, searching for the right word, “...exploration.”

Ben was silent for a moment, one hand on the doorframe.

“I don’t need a history book, general. You avoid any type of Force-sensitivity in your followers. How could you actually help me?”

“You can hear it; I’m not lying,” Hux answered, tone entirely dry. “I can give you this chance.”

“I’m not bargaining.” Ben gathered his resolve around him like armor. “Get some rest; there are probably another few data sticks in here if you dig. I’ll bring you food when we land.”

Hux made a noise, shifting as if to take a step forward.

“We’re done bargaining, Solo,” he said, glaring at Ben’s back. “I want to get back to my own ship, you want an opportunity to understand whatever sort of power you have. I can do that. I can give that to you.”

“I have shipments to make, payment to deliver. My father’s waiting for me on the _Eagle_. You’re making nebulous promises that I don’t even know how you’d keep.” He turned and met Hux’s eyes fiercely. “Why would I even trust you?”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Hux said, his cold eyes keeping Ben’s gaze. “I certainly can’t make you trust me. But know that if you get me back to my ship, I will see your desires met.”

Ben’s mouth worked as he watched Hux’s face, extending the Force enough to feel him out, to know if he was lying. There was ambition, there was still that underlying fear in the other man, there was the desire to take the upper hand. But there was no deception.

“Do you smoke?” he asked suddenly, breaking away from the topic as though breaking through the surface of water, desperate for air.

Hux narrowed his eyes and nodded once. “On occasion.”

Ben hesitated, then nodded as though agreeing with himself.

“Do you want to step out of there for a few minutes?” His voice was light, but not friendly.

Glancing around, Hux looked back to Ben and shrugged. “I could use a change of scenery.”

Ben hooked his thumbs in the belt slung low on his hips, twisting his mouth. “Do I need to put restraints on you or are you going to continue all this good behavior?”

“I’m sure if I get too rowdy you have ways of putting me down,” Hux said, his sarcasm returning. The general wasn’t entirely comfortable with this agreement, but he was sure that he could keep the upper hand. He had every intention of going through with his part of the deal, he wasn’t sure if Ben was really going to abandon whatever he had to follow him.

Gesturing casually, Ben walked out of the small berth and towards the back of the main concourse.

“I don’t even smoke, not usually. My father keeps spare cigarettes in the odd little compartment in case he wants one. My mother hasn’t ever approved.” It was one of their milder arguments, one Ben didn’t mind thinking about or sharing. He reached up and tapped the release on a panel, which swung open with a hydraulic hiss. The compartment was over his head and Ben reached into it, sliding his hand around until he found the small carton. “There.” He pulled it down and shook it. “Still a few left anyway.” He offered it over to Hux.

Hux followed a few steps behind him, keeping his hands behind his back as he walked through the _Falcon_. He raised his eyebrows and took the carton, popping it open and taking a small, tightly wrapped black cigarette. The little seal indicated that it was high quality leaf from Be-Her’ent. He raised his eyebrows, the cig between his fingers.

“A light?”

Ben nodded, leaning closer to Hux and extending a hand. It had been one of the earliest Force skills he’d learned, and not from his Uncle Luke either. Leia had coaxed him and praised him, showing him over and over how she made the fire appear at the ends of her fingers. It was a stupid child’s trick, he thought now, but he brought up the small flame to light Hux’s cigarette.

The tiny fire that popped up from thin air surprised Hux more than it should have let it, and he blinked once before he leaned down slightly, placing the cigarette against the fire and inhaling gently to light it. He stood up straight before turning to lean against the curved side of the ship, closing his eyes as he took a drag. He made a quiet noise and dropped his hand; the smoke lifted to the ceiling of the _Falcon_ before getting sucked into a nearby vent.

“I should start keeping my ration,” he muttered, tilting his head upwards, the smoke curling out of his mouth as he spoke. Ben watched him, smiling slightly again.

“What sort of quality cigs do you get as a First Order general, hmm?” Ben stepped over to lean against the wall next to Hux.

The general glanced over at him and then shrugged, looking back up at the ceiling. “Leaf comes from the Ualtoine system, near Merto Five.” He took another drag, closing his eyes again. “Not as good as these.” He could feel that these cigarettes were strong, that it wasn’t just a usual de-stressing compound. He could feel that these would affect him a little more.

Ben pointed over at the cig in Hux’s hand. “My first was one of those. I coughed so hard I threw up.” He smirked a little and crossed his arms as he leaned back again. “My father thought it was hysterical up until that moment.”

Hux made a noise, opening his eyes to look at the cigarette in between his fingers. The small anecdotes about his family were...unnecessary, but Hux knew that this sort of casual camaraderie was important when building up trust. It was almost a relief that he didn’t have any such cute stories to share. He shifted, holding the cig over to Ben, his face blank. “I assume you won’t do that now.”

Ben laughed as he reached over to take the cigarette then leaned back comfortably as he drew in a lungful of smoke. He held it for a moment before exhaling slowly. He smiled as he looked over at Hux. “Not this time anyway.” He held it back toward the officer.

Hux didn’t smile as he took the cigarette back, looking up again as he took another breath around the leaf. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

“What will you tell the Wookiee?”

“Regarding?” Ben crossed his arms again.

“I’m curious about your decision,” Hux muttered, taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t made a decision. I have time.” Ben shrugged and stood up straight, stretching his arms over his head.

Hux hummed, head still tilted up, eyes closed. “Six hours’ worth.”

“We have a few hours before we get to…” Ben paused, careful not to give too much information to the other man. “To our destination. Then I have a very touchy pick up to make.” He took a deep breath and let himself look over at the other man. Hux did a very good job of making himself appear calm and controlled at all times. Sometimes Ben almost believed him.

“Not another unsuspecting prisoner, I hope,” Hux said dryly, looking over at Ben and then down at the remainder of his cigarette. He sighed, took another long drag, and then held the remainder out to Ben, making a noise. “Finish it.”

“Are you sure? That might be your last one for awhile.” Ben reached for the cig but waited a moment before taking it. “You know these have that little kick at the end.”

Hux made a noise, frowning slightly. “You’re letting it burn out.”

Ben kept his eyes on Hux’s as he raised the cig to his mouth. He maintained eye contact as he inhaled, watching the other man’s face. He breathed out a soft curl of smoke and smiled.

“One more.” Still keeping his gaze on Hux’s, he took the last drag the cig had to offer, feeling the extra kick that thumped in his chest. He held the smoke and widened his eyes slightly at the First Order officer, then looked up to blow the smoke away and watch it get sucked into the air intake above them.

Hux didn’t break eye contact with Ben until the other man looked up. Only then did he shift, standing up straight and sliding his hands behind his back again. He made a noise, frowning a little.

“What makes this drop off touchy?”

“Sometimes you have to deal with people who you don’t have the best history with. Family history sometimes.” Ben rolled his eyes, leaning over to drop the butt into one of the garbage chutes.

“Your father?” Hux asked, frowning a bit more as he glanced over his shoulder at Ben.

“As always.” Ben laughed a little, and it was only half humorous. His father was obviously well-known (who didn’t know Han Solo?), but it wasn’t always for good things. It definitely depended on the circles you moved in.

“Is he expecting more than money from you?”

“Well, definitely. Some deals require more than credits. There’s nothing quite like a run when you’re ultimately tracking down one item for a customer and you have six stops along the way to trade up to it.” Ben shook his head.

“Sounds like a lot of hassle,” Hux said, brushing some non-existent dirt off his shoulder. “Do you often do specialty pickups?”

Ben watched Hux’s careful attention to his uniform shoulder and decided, at that moment, not to tell him how dusty his ass was from being the first person to sit in that chair in a couple years.

“Yeah, often, actually. If someone’s looking for something other people tell them they can’t get, they come to me. Well, my father, then I get the job.” He pushed himself away from the wall to stand up straight. “I’m a specialty guy.”

“What with all the moving things with your will, behavior tampering, mind reading abilities?” Hux asked, shifting again to try to fix his hair into something that would pass military muster.

“Everyone has skills. The trick is knowing when to use them.” Ben shrugged, looking over at Hux again. “Besides, some of that isn’t supposed to be used too much. You know. Gets into those free will issues.” He smiled crookedly, as though mocking what he was saying a bit even as he was saying it.

“Ah,” Hux’s eyebrows went up as if he were returning the joke, though just barely. “Those are such pesky things.” He glanced to the side and shrugged, waving his hand dismissively as he looked down at his boots. “An inconvenience, really.”

“Good thing there are all those grey areas Jedi training doesn’t cover.” Ben’s smile was still lingering around the corners of his mouth. “Hey, I told you that I’d let you clean up, didn’t I?”

Hux frowned a little, then looked up at Ben again. He ignored the question, shifting to face Ben more squarely.

“Jedi training?”

Ben was surprised by the sudden intensity. Up to that point, Hux had delivered everything in a clipped, unimpressed tone. He met his eyes and couldn’t help raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Yeah. When I was younger, I was in training with my uncle.” He shrugged and smirked enough to try to convey that it was ancient, long ancient, history and didn’t matter to him anymore. He wasn’t about to tell Hux how many times he’d gone back to the temple to try and then left again. “I’m sure you know who he is too.”

Hux swallowed, still frowning deeply. His shoulders were set straight under his dark grey jacket and his mind was racing. Luke Skywalker was training young Jedi. At the very least, he was training one. It couldn’t have been much; the Jedi were nearly extinct by the time Luke had arrived. Whatever bastardized proto-order the man had conceived couldn’t possibly hold a flame to the sort of inferno that the Jedi had kept decades ago.

“Of course.” Hux said, shaking his head slightly. “It must be oppressive, being passed from family member to family member, trying on different roles. Smuggler, Senator, Jedi.” He shrugged, not looking away from Ben. “I’m just surprised you haven’t left yet.”

“You act like I don't get to make any of my own choices. I'm not tied to anything; I can take what I want from any kind of life.” Ben’s tone was more defensive than he'd intended. “If I wanted to be a Senator, I'd be one. Trust me.” He paused a minute before continuing, jaw tight. “I haven't been ‘passed around.’”

Hux saw that anger, and he just shrugged, looking away from Ben again, dismissive, disbelieving, arrogant in the extreme. “Of course not.”

“What about you?” Ben asked, voice rising a little. “On the military fast track because daddy put you there. And kept you there. The general who doesn’t get trusted with anything important, because he’s just a named placeholder.”

The general raised his eyebrows, but didn’t let any emotions show through. He shifted, his hands still clasped behind his back in some small deference to standing at attention.

“Having my late father’s name certainly helped, but I can assure you that I made this choice myself,” he said, his tone neat. Everything about his bearing emanated his absolute belief in his convictions. “I have not rested on the laurels of Brendol Hux, and I certainly don’t intend to rest on my own achievements either.”

“No?” Ben snorted and shook his head. It was easy to rest back into his careless attitude when he could just focus on someone else’s life decisions. “What’re your big plans? Maybe a brand new clone army? More exciting uniforms? No, no...you’re aiming higher, I can see that.” He looked Hux over slowly, dark eyes sliding down then up the man’s entire body. “You want something much bigger. Emperor Hux. How does that strike you?”

Hux narrowed his eyes, unmoving. For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. Then he shrugged once with one shoulder, almost glaring at Ben. “If the appointment suits.”

Ben’s smile spread slowly, eyes almost stuck on the general’s. This man, with his ramrod posture and his bright ginger hair and his nasty little comebacks, really believed this, that he could fill a legendary Sith lord’s throne. The hubris was fascinating. The conviction rolled off Hux in angry waves.

“The second Galactic Empire! In the care of a datapad jockey with delusions of grandeur.” The smuggler laughed; his moods were changeable, and this had been the right angle to restore his good humor. “Emperor Hux. That’s rich, I really like that. Maybe I should contact the First Order, offer to bargain to see if they want their supreme lord back.” He laughed again, leaning forward to put one hand on his thigh.

The young general didn’t move, and if Ben had been any other person, there wouldn’t have been any hesitation. Hux might usually avoid getting his hands dirty, but he was sure that he would have loved to beat the man’s face into a bloody pulp for being so maddeningly entertained.

He said nothing though, just watching Ben, beyond annoyed. At least he could imagine all the ways he would have been happy to send the other man to the floor. He took a deep breath, not looking away from the smuggler.

Ben struggled to contain his mirth, though two tentative glances at Hux reduced him to laughter again. The third time he was able to take a deep breath and actually look at him, though his grin was still huge.

“Sorry about that, sweet cheeks. You just surprised the hells out of me. I didn’t know I had an aspiring Palpatine on board my ship.” He stepped away from the wall and gestured. “Come on. You can clean up a little, though I’m warning you now the water’s either ice or blistering, no in between. I’ll even let you shave.”

Hux thought it ironic that the man who had less than an hour before admitted to the desire to explore the kind of power Darth Vader had would be so entertained by the thought that someone else would have liked to be Emperor. It was some small comfort to Hux that at least he wasn’t a hypocrite. He knew where his ambitions lay.

“If you think yourself entirely capable of showing me the shower without giggling, it would be appreciated,” Hux said, and he couldn’t keep the smugness out of his voice.

Even the attitude didn’t dampen Ben’s spirits. When he could focus on the now and forget the things about his future that didn’t appeal to him, he did pretty well. Everyone had a coping mechanism. He led Hux to another door, tapping the panel beside it to open it and turn on the light inside the room. It was a pretty bare bones operation, with the little shower stall and the whir of the stronger ventilation overhead, making the room a a degree or two chillier than the rest of the ship.

“It’s not particularly luxurious, but hopefully it’ll do.” He pointed out the room’s features as he spoke. “Soap’s available if you push that button. Push it twice. Once doesn’t work, and three times will get you squirted in the eyes. To get water, turn the crank there until you hear the click, then push the whole thing in. Shaving stuff is over the sink. Chewie’s supposed to clean out the drain, but I can’t promise anything.” He looked over at Hux, expecting his usual look of utter disdain and was not disappointed.

“Towels are…” Ben walked in and pulled open a storage container flipped onto its side. “Yeah, there are a couple clean ones in here.” He pulled one out and offered it to the general. It was worn and had the pufferpig mascot of a long-extinct fast food chain printed into it. “Anything else you can think of?”

Hux’s eyebrows were raised to his hairline as he reached out to take the towel, holding it up with an expression that was a cross in between disbelief and disgust. Every hour spent onboard this ship was a lesson in humility and patience, and he nodded once.

“It’ll do,” he said curtly, stepping into the washroom and placing the towel on a spare hook next to the shower. At least everything looked relatively clean, even for a smuggler’s ship. He glanced over at Ben and gestured to the door. “If that’s all?”

“Oh, you expect me to let you just shower alone and in peace? Is that it?” Ben smiled and stepped back, hands up. “Fine, fine. Like I said, temp options are limited. And I’d advise you to keep it short. Just...yeah.”

He winked and stepped back through the door, closing it though he didn’t lock it from the outside (which was a stupid function for a bathroom anyway). He leaned against the wall beside the door, whistling to himself quietly, though it faded out as he let himself really think over what Hux had said earlier. I can facilitate this sort of exploration. What did Hux know about that sort of thing? He was shocked any time Ben so much as moved something with the Force. But there had been no deception in him when he’d spoken. He’d said it with as much conviction as anything else he’d said about the First Order. The curiosity coiled around the need in Ben’s belly, that indefinable need that made every single path he’d set himself on end in meaningless apathy.

As Ben left, Hux took the step forward to lock the door, knowing that it offered little protection from being opened. He quickly devested, folding every piece of clothing neatly on top of a bare surface, and attempted to get the temperature of the shower to something decent. He could only manage lukewarm, barely above freezing, but it would do.

Hux showered fast, not wanting to spend more time than necessary so exposed. He followed the instructions perfectly, rinsed the final suds out of his hair and then put on his pants and undershirt, his suspenders hanging from his waistband as he washed his face. After a moment’s consideration he pulled down the lather, brush, and razor from the small shelf above the sink. He could only pray that nothing happened to the ship as he began to shave, very carefully.

While Ben waited, he was called by Chewie on the intercom. There was no emergency; the _Falcon_ had received a message from Leia Organa when they’d stopped at the market port, and Chewie had just been going through the logs now. The smuggler sighed to himself, that little prickle of guilt at the back of his neck again. He was guarding the door of a man who he should have included in the inevitable message back to his mother. He wondered, suddenly, what Hux was doing in there, if he was still futilely trying to plan an escape with Chewie’s comb in one hand and the plunger in the other or if he was doing something as mundane as brushing his teeth. Ben frowned slightly-- he hadn’t actually shown him where the small stock of dissolving brushes he kept for the rare and random guests he had on board was kept. He banged on the door with the side of his fist.

“Everything alright in there?”

Hux made a noise, frowning at the door. He shook his head and continued to shave, running the water sparingly.

“Fine,” he said, barely raising his voice.

“If you need a toothbrush, they’re tucked back behind the...I’m going to say blue box on the bottom shelf of the cabinet, but it might be green.” He glanced at the comm on his wrist when it beeped. One hour until they reached their destination.

Making another noise, Hux tilted his head up, shaving under his jawline. He didn’t respond; instead he focused on his task, making this an exercise in precision and control.

When Ben didn’t hear any response from the bathroom, he just shrugged to himself and turned to lean back against the wall again. He’d have to be done in there sooner or later.

In the shower room, Hux made sure that his face was washed and his jacket was properly fastened before he opened the door. He glanced over at Ben, looking smug.

“Did you stand watch the entire time?”

“Should I have just locked you in the bathroom? That seemed weird.” Ben pulled a face and shrugged. He took a moment to look Hux over; while there were still some wrinkles in the uniform, with his hair still wet and combed back, he’d managed to pull himself back together pretty well. Though maybe that was his impossibly perfect posture giving that impression.

Hux rolled his eyes again, taking another step forward. He gestured to a half-open door across from the washroom. “Your berth?” Ben followed his hand and looked, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah, that’s mine.” He smirked and leaned in slightly. “You curious about what I have hidden in there? About what goes on in there?”

Frowning, Hux shook his head once. “I’m getting the lay of the ship,” he explained, wondering how anyone could survive by being this facetious.

“Yeah? For your big escape or for the day you’re captaining it, having driven me back into the bathroom and taking over my identity through the galaxy?” Ben raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Hux frowned, genuinely confused by the playfulness. “That’s not at all what will happen.”

His unlucky passenger’s perplexed expression almost made Ben laugh again. He imagined that life for the general must have been boring, dry, and featureless. That was one thing he couldn’t complain about in his own. There had always been something going on. Often too much.

“Really? Are you sure? Come on, let’s switch clothes and see if anyone notices.” He paused. “I bet a week as a smuggler would be good for you. All joking aside. Most joking aside.”

“I’m sure you would convince absolutely no one,” Hux said, rolling his shoulders slightly. “And I doubt I would enjoy it more than my current station.”

“You’d still get to give orders, don’t worry. But maybe you’d learn to fire a blaster. Sit comfortably. Buy yourself a dance from a pretty Twi’lek girl in port. Eat oonberry pie and actually enjoy it. Steal something for yourself.” Ben shrugged. “And try something other than those weird pants.”

The general’s expression stayed fixed in something like confusion and bemusement. He wasn’t entirely sure the point of this sort of joking, even though he was pretty sure that there was no reason for it. He shook his head again, although his frown had lightened.

“None of that sounds particularly tempting, if I have to go around with a name like Ben Solo and wear my hair like some kind of Bordok jockey.”

“You don’t like Solo? I’ve got a couple others you could try on to see if one fits you better.” Ben reached around Hux to tap the control panel and the bathroom door slid closed.

“I’ll pass,” Hux said, shifting to let Ben close the door. “Am I to be kept in the room during your interactions with your father? Or is there someplace more secure where I can feel confident that I won’t be sent to eat space.”

“What sort of security are you looking for, general? Are you looking for an actual prison? If that’s the case, then it’s my mother you’re after.” Ben shrugged, still just as uncomfortable with the whole situation and no closer to a solution.

“Maybe just a little bit of assurance, since I doubt that your father will be anything but accommodating,” Hux said, frowning. “I’ll stay in the room.” He turned, heading towards the secondary berth. “How long will the drop off take?”

“You’re jumping ahead of yourself. You’re obviously getting nervous.” Ben walked after Hux, using his long legs to catch up in half a step. “First I have a pick up. Then the drop off.”

“Where are we going for this?” Hux asked, walking to the small room although he was loathe to enter. This ship was too small for him; it was nearly claustrophobic. Ben tilted his head as he watched the general lingering outside the door to the room he’d been locked in for several days now. It was obvious that he was stalling.

“You know I’m not going to tell you that. What sort of moof-milker do you think I am? I don’t make mistakes.” He didn’t view cockiness as a weakness either. “Chewie will be staying on the ship with you.”

“What will I be able to do with the name of some Outer Rim system?” Hux asked, frowning slightly. He was still standing to the side of the berth’s entrance. “It’s not as if I can overpower a Wookiee and make off with this pile of junk when you aren’t looking.”

“You just don’t need any of that info though, do you? Just in case you do get away at some point, I can’t let you get information about my customers. My delicately constitutioned clients.” Ben half-smiled. “If you’re lucky, I’ll get killed trying to negotiate and then...well, okay, that’s not a winning scenario for you either.”

“Somehow I doubt that you are an inept negotiator. You hardly seem like the type to let anything go without plying it to your advantage,” he said, shaking his head and looking up at Ben, almost smirking. “Are you telling me you rely solely on your wits and not the Jedi mind tricks your uncle’s taught you?”

“They’re not just tricks.” Ben’s mouth twisted slightly. He wasn’t pondering the question. He was reflecting on how he should answer. “I generally don’t use them for...things like that. Only cases where…” He paused. How did he differentiate? He’d only rarely had someone agree to a deal with him using the Force, but he’d definitely gotten himself out of difficult situations with it many times. “It doesn’t work…” He cut himself off in the middle of that sentence. He had no intention of telling Hux that it only worked on certain types of minds.

“When doesn’t it work?” Hux asked, shifting to lean against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You didn’t appear to experience much difficulty earlier. ”

“No, I really didn’t.” Ben’s smirk was a little too confident as he shrugged. “I don’t generally, with the type of people I’m dealing with. There are a few races that tend to be more resistant, but I haven’t found it too limiting in my line of work.” There. That bit of information was probably already available somewhere and would hopefully satisfy Hux.

“What do you find limiting then?” Hux asked, watching him carefully. He had already judged that this man held himself in high regard; he was sure that he would respond with some kind of version of ‘not much’.

“Indecision,” Ben replied after a second of thought, then he shook his head once. “Do you need anything before I tuck you back in with the other cargo?”

Hux sighed, looking over his shoulder into the small berth. He pushed off the frame and gestured as he stepped inside the room.

“As it was, then,” he said, picking up his greatcoat and putting it over his his shoulders, pulling the chair closer to sit down. He picked up one of the datasticks lying loose on the desk and held it in between this middle and index finger, looking back up at Ben. “I’ll entertain myself.”

“If you dig deep enough, you’ll get to the really interesting stuff.” Ben smirked, leaning back as he held onto the top of the doorframe. “However your tastes run, there’s probably something or other in one of those crates.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I go searching for lewd holovids while you’re finishing up your smuggling run?” the general asked, incredulous but not surprised. “Why don’t you just direct me to a few of your favorites and spare me the effort?”

“You think I’d keep my favorites in here?” Ben shook his head. “There’s some weird stuff around though; I don’t even know where some of it came from. But I’m not judging! I’ll make sure the door stays good and locked.”

Hux rolled his eyes, dropping the holovid onto the desk and glancing around the small room as if he hadn’t already memorized its dimensions, as though he didn’t know the exact number of boxes, precisely how many sticks, pillows, and dusty blankets there were, what was in the closet full of old clothes, some of them which must have belonged to Senator Organa at one point.

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you,” he intoned solemnly.

Ben grinned quickly, spreading his arms.

“I come from a long line of hospitable people, what can I say?” he replied cheerfully. He was still trying to ignore the big question in his mind and keep himself focused on the present things. Like annoying General Hux and planning how he’d deal with whoever Reda Ohnaka had brought with her to the negotiation.

“Ah yes, pirates and politicians have always made such charitable hosts,” Hux said, smirking a little and crossing one leg over the other.

“You’re leaving out how downright homey Sith can be,” Ben quipped, then felt that sensation run up his spine that he always felt when his grandfather was suddenly part of a conversation. The innocent joke sat like a guilty rock in his stomach.

“How could I forget,” Hux muttered, not taking his eyes off Ben. There was something different in his bearing as he said that, as if mentioning Vader was in some way anathema to the man. A sensitive subject that Hux himself had been wary to approach. “They always seem so approachable.”

Ben’s shoulders were suddenly tight again, and he’d pulled himself up to stand as straight as Hux normally did. It brought attention to how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, how imposing he could have been if he didn’t slouch through life with half a smile on his face. He hated hearing Hux talk about it that way, as though he should have let the flat joke lie. But it wasn’t a bad joke; Ben knew his father would have snorted, which was as good as laughter. It just left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Hand me those dishes and I’ll take them back to the galley. It’s too bad we can’t trust you more. We could put you to work.” Ben held his hand out.

“What indication have I given that I’m not trustworthy?” he asked, shifting to pass the plates to Ben. “I’ve been entirely compliant for the duration of my confinement.” He gestured, looking around the room which was pristine and possibly even neater than when he had been first placed in it. “A model prisoner.”

Ben let himself focus again, pushing himself to concentrate on the small things, the way his uncle had taught him. He felt the curve of the metal plate pressed into his palm; he noticed the way Hux’s mouth shifted when he pronounced his R’s. It was the start of his way of pushing back the darker parts that to be kept down and ignored.

“So let me get this straight. Are you...volunteering to wash dishes and cook meals?” He raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

Hux made a noise, gesturing at the door.

“No,” he stated dryly. “Kitchen duty is hardly a good use of my skillset.”

Ben tossed the plates up and let them find a small orbit between his body and Hux’s, following their tracks around and and around an imaginary sun in this strange little universe the Force had created, guided by his hand.

“What would be, oh model prisoner?” he asked, not watching the general.

Hux couldn’t help watching the dirty plates as they slowly revolved around the room, caught in some forced vortex he could hardly get his mind around.

“I suppose my experience is better suited to military endeavors than smuggling operations,” he said, almost offhand, still watching the plates. “It’s not as if you have need of a general on board a ship of two.”

“How many victories do you have under that wide belt, general?” Ben asked almost conversationally, his own eyes following the path of the dishes he was pretty sure he’d end up washing. If nothing else, there was no reason to get any part of a Wookiee wet that didn’t need to be.

Tearing his eyes away from the dishes, Hux fixed his gaze on Ben, his own face impassive. He knew his every achievement, his data, his losses and wins and every treaty negotiated on behalf of the Order. He couldn’t help the upswing of pride, although he tried to school his voice to make it less obvious.

“Are we counting systems or dogfights?”

Ben felt it though; again, though the general had learned to mask his emotions on his face and in his body language, he had in no way learned to really hide them. Why would he? Who had he ever faced in his life who could feel them this way? The general’s pride made him want to one up him, even though their paths had been completely different, and their triumphs and failures couldn’t ever be really compared.

The plates started spinning in their own unique rotations as they continued their orbit.

“How many victories where you were the captain of the winning ship?”

“All of them,” Hux responded immediately, with absolute conviction. “The number of fights vary, depending on the report, but the number of systems brought to Order is upwards of one fifty. Give or take a few mining planets populated only by strip colonies.”

“A hundred and fifty…” Ben frowned slightly, the dishware ‘planets’ slowing as he looked over at the other man. “Are you serious? The First Order commands that many?”

“I am a single general,” Hux said, trying to imply false modesty as he watched Ben’s expression. “There are others.”

Ben’s face was a strange mixture of emotions. There was that vestigial horror and disapproval that was his mother’s gift to him, this remnant of anger and fear that accompanied the rise of a power like that. And clearly she hadn’t known everything, comparing what she’d told him of the situation and what Hux boasted now. He extended the Force just enough to almost taste the air around the other man. Again, there were no lies, there was no deception. He was proud, but he wasn’t inflating his numbers. And that’s where the second set of emotions came in.

That type of power. That type of opportunity, to do new things that were built on the power of old things. The Resurgent-class Star Destroyer. The man who couldn’t be much older than him, if at all, who was the master and commander of such a ship. What could an organization like that offer to him, who’d been told his whole life he was created for bigger things, that he was full of power that had to be trained and contained because there were unmentionable repercussions if he didn’t? Unnamed dangers that hinted at the heights attained by his grandfather. His secret, dark heritage.

“What do you think you can accomplish? You’re not a large order,” he scoffed, pushing his mouth into that smirky smile he usually hid behind. “Eventually the Republic’s going to notice.”

Hux couldn’t feel the Force, he wasn’t really sensitive at all, but he knew in that moment that Ben was concentrating on something. He watched the other man carefully, choosing his words with precision.

“Eventually,” he stated, as if this sort of spread were inevitable and ultimately for the best, “we will make ourselves known.”

“Someone will put you in your place before then. No matter what you’re hiding out there in the Unknown Regions, it’s not enough to really make you a presence.” Ben’s voice was very confident; he was good at hiding his hand.

“I look forward to the challenge,” the general said, altogether too smug. He reached out and touched one of the plates that were floating, revolving slowly, but not really moving in orbit anymore. “I’m sure the day will come very soon.”

There was something so subtly dangerous about Hux at that moment, like finding out the animal you’d been handling for days was actually venomous. And suddenly, Ben wanted that. That type of hidden power and danger that this man commanded, that type of ultimate conviction. A strange jealousy constricted his throat and he knew he could, maybe should, kill Hux where he stood. He could use the Force to slam the edge of one of those plates into his temple. He could just walk over wrap his hands around his throat.

He could use the Force to do the same thing and leave no mark on the body. An attack unworthy of a Jedi. An attack favored by Darth Vader.

“You act as though there’s no one who could stop you. Which is stupid.” He sent the plates clattering into the open utility sink across the hallway, stepping to the side as he gestured past himself. He looked back at Hux with a fierce expression, eyes dark and burning. “There’s always someone stronger.”

Hux could see the change, it was perceptible in the way the man seemed surprised, in the way his shoulders set, in the question his eyes were flicking over Arrik’s face as if he couldn’t quite believe him despite every indication of truth that the general projected. It wasn’t entirely obvious, but the realization dawned that this man was considering killing him.

“Are you trying to lecture me?” Hux asked quietly, still looking up at Ben from his seat on the chair. He was still testing the waters. If Ben Solo wanted him dead there wasn’t much that he could do about that from his current position. Hux was very nearly out of tricks. “When that someone appears, I will know it.”

“I’m not really the lecturing type.” Ben took a deep breath, in through his nose then very slowly out his slightly open mouth. He had to let it go. This had nothing to do with him. Nothing. He couldn’t just stop talking through. “By the time you know that person, it’ll likely be too late. That’s how things like that work. You know that.”

“The to the victor,” Hux muttered, gesturing. “I won’t wait to be bested if my time would be better spent improving myself.” He spoke as though he was explaining himself to Ben, legs crossed and hands on the arms of the chair as he continued to look up at the smuggler. “Is that how you’ve lived? Someone always telling you that there would always be another stronger than you, waiting to beat you down?”

“No one’s needed to tell me that.” Not in words, they didn’t, but what was it all otherwise? Leia Organa taught him to absorb more knowledge and debate the issues more cleverly than the other person. His father showed him how to keep two steps ahead of the other person. His uncle Luke had trained him to be faster and more controlled than the other person. What none of them seemed to realize was that he’d never actually met anyone more powerful than he was. They could teach him lessons, but not how to best himself. “That’s one of the laws of the galaxy. Basic principles at work right there.”

Resentment, a tone like resignation. Hux made a noise and shrugged.

“Maybe that’s the true difference between us, Solo,” he said, his tone clipped and precise. “Nobody told you that you deserved anything.”

Ben swallowed, not sure what to make of that statement. It wasn’t true, couldn’t be. Everyone wanted him, all the time. As another Organa Senator, as another Solo smuggler, as another Skywalker Jedi.

“What were you told you deserved?” he asked. All he had to do was close the door between them. That was all he had to do to end this conversation.

“Power.” The answer was simple and grave, his delivery earnest. “Not given, earned.”

“You think I don’t have that?” Ben knew the answer to that as well. He had potential, not real power. Not in the sense that Hux did even.

Hux shrugged, eyebrows up. Here it was, the opening, maybe. The feeling in his gut reminded him of when he was a child, anticipating punishment for speaking too freely. He was on a smuggler’s ship now though; he might as well take some risks.

“Frankly, no,” the general said, watching Ben carefully although he didn’t temper his words. “You, what you can do with your mind is unrelated to the actual power you have. Whose lives do you influence? What kind of change have you made? What goals have you achieved?” He was biting, unrelenting, staring at Ben with his cold, sharp gaze.

Ben’s hand, out of sight behind the edge of the doorframe, clenched itself into a tight fist.

“Is that how you measure it all? Military prowess? You were brought up with that as your whole life, I’m guessing. What other type of power would you have ever seen?” But it rankled, it burned, the truth Hux presented. Because regardless of what side the general stood on, it was truth. Ben had been running his whole life. Or passed off to another guardian who wasn’t sure what to do with him either. He felt that anger curling up again, rising through his center. Those guardians who didn’t seem quite sure how to keep his potential from turning into power that could be dangerous.

“None that compare,” Hux turned his head to the side, just barely, eyebrows up. “Although the kind that you wield is certainly intriguing.”

Ben couldn’t look away from the other’s man’s face, that taut calm that held each of his finer features still. His eyes were even paler in the direct light over the desk.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, believe me.” The smuggler shrugged. “No one gives me something adequate to do with it.”

“For someone who defends his livelihood so vehemently, you seem keen on purpose,” Hux almost smirked, his eyebrows shooting up as just part of his mouth twitched. “I will make good on my promise, I assure you.”

There it was again. That temptation that didn’t even promise him anything solid.

“I have no assurance of that. I don’t even know what you’re offering.” Ben’s voice went low again, deeper and untrusting. Tempted.

“The opportunity to have real power, the chance to be more than just one man on his father’s ship.” He leaned forward, still looking up with his elbows balanced on his knees. “I’ll even let you hear me, however it is that you do such things. I speak the truth. You said it yourself: all anyone sees is potential, but what room do they give you to grow into it?”

“How?” Ben swallowed as soon as he managed the word. Everyone offered him vague things. This was a dangerous exploration. He shouldn’t have even been asking these questions. He should shut the door. He knew he should shut the door. He had a message from his mother waiting for him. His father was waiting for him to deliver.

But to Hux, the game was still ongoing. Here it was, one move from checkmate. He had the King in the corner. Ben could be playing him, plying him for more information to suit his own purposes, and perhaps it was Hux’s fault for being too arrogant, but he desperately wanted this. He believed that he could do this.

“However you’d like,” Hux promised, eyes intent, face steady. “The First Order can offer you much, Ben. You will be able to see the power you want, you will be able to touch it. There are members of our Order who are like you, given their own reins to manage.”

Ben was already shaking his head slightly, but it was almost like a motion he felt that he should be making rather than one he meant.

“You don’t understand.” He couldn’t admit to Hux what really stopped him. To try the power he wanted, he’d need help. He’d need training. “I don’t want to be a general, even with a Star Destroyer under my command,” he said finally.

“Then you won’t be a general,” Hux said, shrugging. “You will operate outside of the military structure, although you will be aided and supported by it, should you see fit.”

“You don’t have the authority to give me a position like that,” Ben challenged him, telling himself this was just information gathering. A way to maintain an upper hand with the self-assured general.

“Don’t be so quick to underestimate me,” the general said quietly. “I have the authority.”

“To promise me some sort of special position outside of the military system you belong to?” Ben’s eyebrow position was as dubious as his voice was. There had to be excuses to make this less appealing. There had to be a hook. No deal was ever that good.

How good is a deal that condemns your family and your very way of life? What gives you the right to destroy all of that, just because they never gave you the chance to become? His inner voice didn’t sound like himself. It didn’t even sound like anyone he knew. It was familiar though, something that had whispered to him from before he knew what words were.

“There is a way, Ben.” Hux didn’t let his eyes leave Ben’s, conveying how absolutely serious he was, how sure he was. “It is not even uncommon. I have had a man like you on my ship for a time.”

Ben’s face visibly paled, and he worked his mouth for a few seconds before answering.

“Like me? What does that mean?” He shook his head once. “Someone...Force sensitive? Trained by whom?”

Hux tilted his head to the side, eyebrows up. “Am I lying to you? Someone like you, someone trained.” He gestured again. “Isn’t that enough information to trust me? How much more do you need before I get some kind of guarantee that you will follow through on your end of this deal?”

Ben stared at him, holding the other man’s eyes for a long moment. It was terrifying in its enormity, this idea of the First Order having someone like him, someone who’d slipped through his uncle’s fingers. But someone trained. Trained by another, someone stronger.

“I want an amendment to the deal,” he said finally. “I can drop you off somewhere...but I want the assurance that I can leave again, if I decide after a visit that I don’t want to stay. I don’t tie myself to anything.”

Hux shook his head once. Any other instance and he would have been more than happy to lie to the man in front of him, to wheel him into some kind of abysmal deal simply because he wanted it a certain way. He didn’t exactly respect Ben Solo, but he had a grudging appreciation of his abilities. Deception would undo the general, ruin all this work.

“That won’t be up to me,” he said, setting his shoulders under his greatcoat, leaning back again. “Like I said, I can facilitate the opportunity, I can show you the way forward. I can promise you that as far as it is within my power, I will not keep you. ”

Ben was already working through his explanations and his excuses and his timing.

“Fine. I mean, I doubt you could ‘keep’ me anyway.” He knocked the edge of his fist against the doorframe as he thought. “I’ll get my box, then as far as Chewie knows when he drops us off on...a planet I’ll decide later is that I’ve brokered a deal for us to get paid for you.” He watched Hux as though gauging his response to the plan. “He’ll go on to rendezvous with the _Eagle_. You and I will get off world, then you can contact your pick up and I’ll tag along with you. Let’s say...I’ll give it a week.”

Hux stood up, holding his hand out to Ben and keeping his gaze.

“You have a deal, Solo.” His head was tilted up, his expression finally one of satisfaction. He allowed himself that much, barely a smile on his face.

Ben had shaken on many deals. He’d kept at least half of them. He stepped forward to clasp the other man’s hand, wondering idly where he’d dropped the gloves he’d been wearing when he was taken.

“Just make sure you don’t mess up the plan,” he replied gruffly, shaking Hux’s hand firmly before letting it drop. “We’ll be landing soon. I’ll talk to Chewie about the slight change in our schedule.”

“There’s not a lot that involves me,” Hux said, taking a step back and sitting again. “I mostly have to keep my mouth shut and look appropriately annoyed.”

“It’s not the annoyed part I’m worried about,” Ben muttered to himself. He hated admitting to himself how excited he felt, how this chance at trying something new felt good to him as long as he quieted that inner voice and its whispered arguments.

“Do you need anything else from me?” the general asked, tilting his head to the side. His stare was unwavering. “Should I barricade myself in the closet as we arrive at the pickup station?”

“It’s just going to be you and Chewie on the ship, so I don’t think it’s going to matter. I’ll be gone for...well, I’m not sure. Obviously, I’d like to keep this short, but Reda definitely has moods.” Ben ran his hand through his hair and dislodged the tie holding some of it back. “I should go wash my face.”

Hux made a noise, looking the man up and down. “Doesn’t the unkempt look lend itself to piracy? Or are you expected to pass some kind of smuggler’s muster?”

Ben looked at Hux again, shaking his head and raising one finger.

“First of all, I’m not a pirate. I am in the business of moving goods, not stealing them.” He tilted his head, then pointed at Hux. “Second, Reda’s very specific about who she’ll do business with. She’s been pretty clear about the fact that she’ll never make a deal with a Solo again. So I need to make sure I’m pulling on one of my other names when we show up.”

“You stole from me,” Hux said with a dismissive gesture. “Besides that, doesn’t your ship give you away?”

Ben smiled a little and wagged his finger back and forth scoldingly. His shoulders had relaxed again, mood shifting like a sudden cloudbreak.

“I didn’t steal from you. Someone else stole from you; I was paid to pick up that shipment and bring it to a buyer, through means I brokered with someone else right under your pointed nose. That person stole from you.” He shrugged. “And sure, she’ll know the _Falcon_. The trick is showing her how much more Organa I am than Solo.”

“Diverting blame is unbecoming,” Hux muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “How do you plan on doing that? You certainly don’t talk like your mother, and she’s considerably shorter than you are.”

“You make it sound like I’m trying to convince her I am my mother,” Ben said, grimacing slightly. That wasn’t creepy or anything. “You act like all I am is a smuggler when you know I’ve done other things.” He laughed to himself. “I’m half tempted to bring you along just to show you.”

Hux raised his eyebrows, tilting his head again.

“Only by half?”

“Tempted, but trying to be rational. All I need is you flapping your lips out there and ruining this deal.” Ben shook his head. “You’re a chance I can’t take.”

Hux shrugged. “We’ve made our deal. I have nothing to gain from making anything more difficult for you.”

It was true, and there was something in Ben that wanted to show off. That always wanted to show off. To be recognized for the skills he had. He brushed that away, shrugging just as casually as Hux had.

“I can’t have you looking like a First Order officer,” he reasoned. “That would definitely scare them off. Weequay pirates don’t want anything around that smells like any kind of government.”

“Then I’ll stay here,” Hux said, gesturing again at the room and staring at the bed with a sense of slight dismay. “You can play dress up on your own time, but I will not get out of uniform.”

Ben was surprised; he could tell that the other man was dying to walk around more, to get off this ship. A uniform seemed like a silly thing to cling to when it was just for a few hours.

“That’s fine then, if you’re that scared of undoing your jacket.” He stepped back. “I’ll be back with some food for you in a few hours. Enjoy the datasticks you find.”

Hux shifted to cross his legs again, making a noise and glancing at the datasticks on the desk. As if he would derive any sort of entertainment from whatever content was on the one he’d chosen earlier.

“Have you ever been out of uniform?” Ben asked suddenly, hand poised to close the door on the small berth.

Frowning slightly, it took Hux a few seconds to respond. He was looking down at the datastick and he made a contemplative noise before looking up at Ben. “No. Not since I was a toddler.”

The admission confirmed a lot, the stories of the academy on Arkanis becoming a breeding ground rather than just a training ground. Especially considering who his father had been, Arrik Hux had had his whole life mapped out for him. He’d only had one option, and so regardless of how well it had suited him, he’d been molded to it. Ben could see that in the other man, the training that was ingrained so deeply it wasn’t training anymore. It was just the way he was.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like not to be a soldier?” he asked curiously.

“Not really, no.” Hux shrugged. “I don’t think I’m cut out for farming,” he finished, and it almost sounded like a joke.

“No,” Ben agreed and laughed as though it really had been. “You’re not really cut out for surface dwelling; you’d burn in a second.”

Hux made a noise almost like an affirmation, raising his eyebrows and glancing up at Ben again. “Is that all?”

Ben shrugged, as though it had been Hux who’d wanted him around asking questions for a bit longer.

“I guess that’s it.” He gave the general a lazy salute as he stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Watching Ben carefully, Hux couldn’t help but notice that he carried all his considerable weight on his shoulders, that he would tense and shift according to his moods, when he wanted to be imposing, when he was tired or angry, when he was curious. Hux narrowed his eyes, making another noise.

“I will be here.”

Ben winked, pulling up the corner of his mouth into a goofy smile at the same time.

“That’s a fact.” He tapped the panel and the door slid closed between them. The smuggler stood for a moment, staring at the smooth (mostly smooth) sheet of metal. He felt like he’d made the wrong decision, but it felt so good to have made it. If nothing else, to satisfy his curiosity. He could always bring back what he learned to another life. It wasn’t binding, this trip to see what exactly Hux could offer him. He could always turn back.

Shaking his head to himself, he turned away from the door and walked to his own berth to get ready for his pick up.

In the tiny storage berth, Hux was, and there really was no better word for it, thrilled. This plan was so far removed from anything that he had ever done before, it was incredible to him that it had proved so successful thus far. Not only successful, but fruitful in ways that he would have never guessed. He had a basic plan in place, but there were so many variables, so many things that could change in an instant; he had to stay completely alert.

He stood again, going over to sit on the bed, folding his greatcoat neatly under his head as he lay down. Hours. He only had hours to wait before he could send his location to Mitaka and be onboard his own ship, again, finally. It would be him and Ben alone on some planet for a few hours, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Look how he’d handled him thus far


	3. Chapter 3

The pick up was...eventful, which was basically what Ben had expected. Nothing ever went truly smoothly; if it did, that generally meant there was something more deeply wrong with the whole operation.

Ben was an hour and a half late getting back to the ship; the sound of the ramp lowering wasn’t as telling as the obviously relieved Wookiee voice his concerns loudly enough to make it through Hux’s door.

While he’d been gone, Hux had been stifling. The room was too small, the ship was too small, and the general barely slept for an hour before he was jolted out of his daze by the shaking of the ship lifting into some semblance of flight. He shifted, turning over on the bed and lying on his side as he tried very hard to ignore the rest of the ship around him.

After that, it was another thirty minutes before the panel was unlocked and the door slid open to reveal the smuggler holding two plates of food. He was dressed in clothes that didn’t really suit the lifestyle, obviously finely made for the capitol in dark rich fabrics. He’d pushed the long sleeves up and was sporting several new cuts on his face.

Even with those clothes, he wore his blaster on its usual beatup holster belt.

Hux had let himself doze, despite the claustrophobic conditions. When the door open he was startled out of a half-sleep and turned over fast, eyes wide. He swallowed and schooled his face quickly, shifting to push himself to sitting, rubbing his hands over his face before looking up at Ben again.

“Hungry?”

Hux’s startled heartbeat was almost audible in the room. Ben hadn’t meant to scare him awake, but it was sort of a bonus.

“Yes,” the general muttered, blinking. Even half-asleep, he tried to fix his hair and smooth his jacket, refastening the top button. “Yes, thank you.”

“Here…” Ben walked in and handed him the plate. “Don’t worry, I won’t rat on you for having a few buttons unbuttoned.”

The general blinked a few more times before taking the plate and relaxing slightly. He made a noise, shifting in the seat, then glanced up at Ben. He took in his appearance slowly, his eyebrows going up.

“Where did that torturous outfit come from?”

Rather than being offended, Ben laughed and looked down at himself as though he needed reminding of what he was wearing. He set the other plate down on the desk and smoothed his hands down his chest.

“This? This is something very new, very proper, very formal if you’re dining with the Senate.” He looked up, still smiling a little. “Which is what I used it for, initially.”

“It looks tawdry,” Hux muttered, shifting again before he started to eat. Even though it was spoken as if it were an insult, it could have been the closest thing to a compliment Ben had heard from Hux yet.

“Next time I make it to the capitol, I’ll be sure to let them know,” Ben said as he sat down at the desk to start eating as well. “I’m guessing your fashion recommendations are...strong-shouldered, big thighed, and accented with giant coats and boots?”

“I can also appreciate men in armor,” Hux muttered, eyebrows up as he ate. It was another joke, and he thought that maybe he should dial back the levity.

“Well, according to your plans, those should be showing up in the capitol any day now, right?” Ben looked over with a grin, fork poised and waiting. He couldn’t eat until he got a reaction.

Hux made a noise, shrugging. “Not my mission,” he said, glancing up at Ben again, watching him. “Did you poison the food?”

“What? After all of these meals, you ask now if I poisoned the food? Wouldn’t it be a little late for you now, sweet cheeks?” Ben shrugged, turning back to his plate.

“You weren’t eating...” Hux frowned, his explanation didn’t seem like it really held water. He shook his head and finished his food, eating each section quickly.

“I was waiting to see if you…” Ben watched him for a minute, then laughed and shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t know why I was waiting.” The meal had incorporated eggs again; obviously, they were eager to use them while they were fresh.

Hux was still frowning, but he glanced up as he ate, looking at Ben’s hands. He made a noise and shook his head, unused to being teased or treated so familiarly. He wasn’t sure he hated it, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable with it.

They ate in oddly companionable silence for a bit, Ben tired enough for once not to keep up his constant running commentary. After a while, this quiet seemed to wear on him and he looked over at Hux again, plate almost empty.

“So, what did you do while I was gone? Besides miss me, obviously.” He reached for the room’s single cup.

“I slept, I think for about two hours total. Not uninterrupted.” It was a report, almost. “I did not miss you, although I am curious about the new cuts you’ve gotten.”

“Cuts?” Ben frowned and looked down at his hands as though they were only parts of him that could have been injured. “What cuts?”

Arrik was so unused to this sort of situation. When he asked a question, he expected an answer, and Ben seemed determined to avoid direct responses. His frowned deepened and he gestured at his own face.

“There. What happened?”

The smuggler was still frowning as he reached up to his face and felt the blood on his cheekbone. He made a thoughtful noise, but it was more bemused than angry or annoyed.

“I guess that one got a little closer than I thought it had.” He shrugged and shook his head. “There was a little bit of a scuffle. Those bolts the pirates have coming out of those guns...you need a totally different weapon to really deflect them with any actual efficiency.”

“That doesn’t actually answer the question.” He was frowning deeply. “Obviously you were hurt. I’m asking why they started shooting?”

“Oh, the usual reasons. Reda figured out this was going back to my father. It’s amazing how many enemies a man can get.” He shrugged, unconcerned by the injuries or the animosity. “She was also expecting more than even I thought she was pretending she wasn’t expecting.”

Hux made a noise, standing up. He reached across Ben to put the plate on the desk, picking up the glass and sitting back.

“And now you and I are getting dropped off.” He shifted, taking a sip of the water. “Where?”

Ben leaned his chair back to his preferred balanced position. Most of the time he did that to stretch his legs out; most chairs weren’t really made to comfortably accommodate the amount of leg he had.

“I don’t think you need to know that just yet. Come on, enjoy the mystery. It’s like a secret vacation.” He nodded, leaning back that little bit more. “Chewie knows what’s going on. He’s so happy to see me alive, he’s not questioning it too much.”

“I don’t like mysteries,” Hux said dryly, finishing the water and putting the cup on the ground. “What am I going to do with that information from here? I’d like to be able to come up with a plan before we land on an unknown planet.”

“What plan do you need? When we arrive, you can use a local comm station to contact your friends, who’ll send a shuttle (likely something enormous, because you seem to be really into that) to pick us up. You don’t have luggage. What’s the problem?” Ben was totally nonchalant about the whole thing, as though it wasn’t slightly life changing.

“I can’t use a local comm to contact the First Order,” Hux huffed, annoyed. “I need a secure channel to access our frequencies. I destroyed any kind of method I had of contacting them because I was sure you were going to start tearing me apart if I didn’t comply.”

“Me?” Ben raised his eyebrows. “Do I seem like someone who would ‘tear you apart?’” He shook his head as Hux raised his eyebrows almost immediately. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Can you use the _Falcon_ ’s comm? Is that ‘secure enough for you?”

“Won’t that give it away to your Wookiee?” Hux asked, crossing his legs, sitting back slightly. “I need to make sure that they’re not coming in expecting a fight.”

Ben spread his hands, watching the perpetually annoyed officer.

“Then what do you think we can do, hmm? Smoke signals?”

“Obviously not,” Hux said, rolling his eyes. “I can use my datapad to coordinate frequencies with the signal from a comm on planet. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.”

“Good thing I decided not to toss that into a trade, huh?” In fact, Ben had spent his alone time on the ship trying to get past the password to see what was on the datapad besides shipping crate inventory.

Hux shrugged. “I figured it would hold some passing interest for you.”

Ben made a considering noise and shrugged. “How many games do you have on there? How much information I could sell? How many nude holos of yourself?”

Hux rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “No games, a small amount of cursory information about the warehouses and small supply base operations, no nude holos of me.”

“So what’s the thing mainly full of? There must be more in it that some basic supply information.” Ben grinned suddenly. “Pet pictures?”

“It’s one of half a dozen I have,” Hux said dismissively. “I have to track supplies, distribution channels, operations, and the personnel attached to all of that. It’s more than enough to fill up a holopad.”

“That all sounds incredibly boring; I’m glad I didn’t waste too much time on it.” Ben sat forward and let the chair drop back down. “Why’s a general doubling up as a supply tracker? Don’t you at least have an aide for that? Someone’s little brother? Something?”

“Of course I do. But when that aide mentions the same missing supplies three months in a row, I check for myself.” He watched Ben’s chair and then looked up to meet his eyes. “I pride myself on being thorough.”

“So...now wouldn’t be the time to tell you about the spot you missed shaving?” Ben smiled and tilted his head to the side.

Hux’s brows snapped down, his jaw set. “I didn’t miss a spot,” he almost sneered, not enjoying the teasing at all.

Ben leaned forward, shifting a little to the side and holding his hand up to point. “There...close to your ear, it’s an easy place to miss. Sort of a weird wrist angle…”

Hux leaned away from Ben, confused. He knew that he hadn’t missed a spot shaving; this was just another ploy to disarm him, to get him comfortable. “I’m not a child, I know how to shave.”

The smuggler was insistent, pointing again. “Right there, it’s just…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Red hair like that, it’s barely visible. Mainly just when the light hits it.”

At the second time, Hux tentatively raised his hand, tilting his jaw up slightly to brush against the very thin line of hair he had missed in the shitty lighting of the _Falcon_ ’s washroom. Red hair was exceptionally rare, and Ben was right, it was easy to miss. He set his jaw, annoyed and a little embarrassed.

“That would never happen if I were on my ship.”

It was impossible for Ben not to burst out laughing. Now he was blaming even this on the ship.

“Oh, right, right. Because those new Star Destroyers come equipped with upgraded shaving technology.” He snorted and shook his head. He was enjoying himself too much, considering the situation.

The general knew that he was being petulant, but he would blame the company of brigands for denigrating his manners. He set his jaw, glaring at the taller man.

“You are a particularly infuriating captor.”

“Like I said, it’s my first time.” He shrugged, still smiling a little. “Allowances must be made,” he continued, mimicking Hux’s tight speech mannerisms. “Besides, how many captors do you have to compare me to?”

“None, technically,” Hux said, still frowning. “I don’t make a habit of getting captured. You’re simply one that I hadn’t been trained for.”

“So you’re trained in being captured...what are you normally supposed to do? I’m curious.” Ben leaned forward, forearms leaning on thighs.

“Normally I’d be kept in a real cell. I’d be sleep deprived, starved and dehydrated to the point of near-death.” He related all of this calmly, knowing that Ben would realize, soon enough, that the training at Arkanis was thorough and gave little mind to intergalactic treaties or accords. “I might be beaten, or tortured, or ignored. Questioned for information.” He shrugged, and one of his shoulders seemed stiffer. “Training for that sort of thing is a fairly tedious affair for officers, but at least you have a time limit. Not that you can tell.” he gestured again, shaking his head. “You stay quiet. You don’t give up information. You don’t betray the Order. You consider it an honor that you were able to serve, and you don’t hold onto hope.”

Ben’s frown deepened as Hux went on through his litany of horrible things that might, theoretically, be done to him in some hypothetical realm of capture. Most of those things were forbidden under New Republic laws and there were treaties in place that had prevented that sort of treatment, even for many who had stayed loyal to imperial ideals when they’d been demilitarized and pushed past the Outer Rim. Obviously there had been higher officers who’d been charged as war criminals (though history texts glossed over them with a softening brush), but even so, he didn’t think those sorts of practices had been used since the days of the Empire. And back then, they’d been used by the Empire.

“Who do you think is going to be doing that to you anyway? That’s all old war stuff.” He shook his head, sitting up again. “Nobody’s even looking to capture you.”

“There is no such thing as the old war and the new war. It’s all war,” Hux said lightly, eyebrows up. “You know better than most that there are plenty of men working outside of the law. That applies to the Republic as well.”

“Trust me, there are people in the Senate who are very watchful and very dedicated to making sure it all stays above board.” Ben leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure, there are some corrupt politicians. I feel like if you don’t have a few, you get a serious disturbance in the Force.”

“Watchful and dedicated until they’re paid off, or they see some benefit to looking the other way,” Hux explained, very sure. “I have little faith in the convictions of Senators. There are few I would trust to stand by their word for the duration of their time in the Congressional Spire.”

“You don’t even know any of them,” Ben pointed out. “You’ve been locked up at Arkanis and the odd mining world you’re keen on taking over. How much time have you spent in the Hosnian system in general?” Even as he spoke, three names popped into his head, Senators he knew didn’t have the Republic’s best interests at heart. That was one thing about his present line of work; he did get to know a lot of dirt.

Hux shrugged, gesturing. “Not a significant amount of time. Enough to know that my goals are not met with complete opposition.”

“There’s always someone spoiling for a fight,” Ben answered ruefully. He shook his head, looking away from the other man as he thought. Hearing some of this, it was hard to stick to his earlier decision. It seemed like this information should be passed to his mother, that he had some sort of moral obligation to make sure she knew. The little threat was growing up.

“The fighting never ends,” Hux said pragmatically, shrugging. “The Senate knows this, the Order knows, you know.” He took a deep breath gesturing. “I don’t believe that I’m ending peace, I don’t believe peace ever existed.”

It smacked of dogma, of words that had been drilled into a kid’s head until he believed them because he didn’t know anything different. But then, how many times had he repeated the Jedi code back to his uncle? How many times had he heard his mother’s reasons for the establishing of the New Republic, how it was so much better than the old one, even though it seemed, to his way of looking at it, just the same. There was always fighting. Sometimes it was out in the open, sometimes it was just your parents behind a partially closed door.

“So tell me, since you seem to be the outward facing missionary of your movement…” Ben shrugged, keeping his eyes on Hux. “What’s the endgame? Say it all works out, say you get your way into the Senate. Into control of the Senate, just like your hero. What then? What do you want, ultimately?”

“Palpatine made his way through the Senate through means that were...less than savory, in retrospect. Effective, but not ideal,” Hux said, choosing his words carefully. “The goal is to establish an Order that will last. Peace is unattainable, but order can be upheld.”

Ben frowned with more curiosity than opposition to what Hux had said. Obviously, the Emperor’s rise to power was no secret in his family. It was tied into their history, indistinguishable from their own.

“‘Less than savory’ is one way to put it, yeah,” he commented with a morbid flare of humor. “What’s the difference between peace and order to you? The Jedi don’t see a separation.” That’s what had been so difficult about training for Ben. That lack of passion, that calm, that neatly ordered schedule of every single day that gave him stability but also bred boredom after a while. That sort of peace. He’d never found it. No amount of meditation worked; his mind shot off in a million different directions, and it didn’t matter how many times someone told you to let your anger go, that didn’t just erase the anger at its root. That was suppression.

The general kept his eyes on Ben’s face intently, not looking away at all as he tried to read him, tried to understand the multifaceted glory of contradictions that existed within this one singular being. It seemed impossible and slightly disturbing that so many ideas could be present in conjunction with one another. It had to be exhausting.

“I can’t imagine peace,” Hux said, frowning slightly. “There are...too many factors, too many fights, too many problems. I can imagine order.”

“Then what’s order? Inarguable rule?” As he discussed these things with Hux, his vocabulary expanded; he sounded less like someone who’d spent his whole life smuggling goods from system to system. “What’s the difference between your order and oppression?”

“What’s the difference between any government and oppression? What’s the difference between any accord and unacceptable limitations? You’re asking questions that have...complicated answers.” Hux made a noise, frowning. “The Senate is ineffective, easily corrupted, and prone to negligence. We seek to establish a higher order of government.”

Ben’s eyebrows flicked up as he watched the general. Behind his careful words there was more than just conviction. It was almost fervor, almost…

“A higher order? Like...something religious? Is this one of those cults that sprang up after the Empire was defeated?” He shook his head. “That’s really not what I’m looking for.”

“There’s no religion involved,” Hux sighed, pushing his hair back. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and when he spoke again his eyes were still shut lightly. “I’ve explained it the best way I know how. It’s not a religion, it’s not a cult, it is a more perfect system for order in the universe.”

The smuggler watched him in silence for a moment, noting the way his pale lashes lay still on his cheeks. Not a tremor. Total conviction, without anger. He could be crazy, Ben realized; they all could be. Zealots pulling out Imperial ethics into the modern age. But hadn’t the Empire been ordered? Hadn’t it been, as Hux said of Palpatine’s brutal plans, efficient? Hadn’t a Sith on the throne established a hierarchy in the galaxy that had the feel of nature to it? What power did the Senate have that wasn’t given by the sentients who chose to let them have it?

A ruler and his enforcer wielding the energy that moved through the entirety of every world, every system, didn’t ask permission. Their power was their own.

His hand closed in a fist on his knee.

“Based on the Galactic Empire,” he said, more for confirmation than as an actual question. “The Empire had its Palpatine. What sort of powerful leader do you have? It can’t just be an oligarchy of generals.”

“There is a Supreme Leader,” Hux said, shifting again to lie down on the bed, an almost dismissive gesture considering that he was basically defenseless against any kind of attack, physical or mental, Ben Solo could force upon him. “You’ll meet him. An honor,” he continued, almost smirking. He knew how it sounded, a little too much like asking for an audience with the Emperor Palpatine. His smirk was answered by one from Ben, along with raised eyebrows.

“An honor, of course. I’ll be sure to pack these clothes so I don’t embarrass you.” A Supreme Leader, huh? That was a pretty big title for someone, and Ben didn’t think anyone would live up to it. He watched Hux, noting the relaxation that the conversation had brought on. Did he feel like they were somehow on the same side now? Was he just really worn out?

Hux took a deep breath, opening his eyes and looking over at Ben, eyebrows up.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask?” His tone was casual, relaxed, as much as he could be. He had barely slept over the past few days on this ship, and even if he was used to only sleeping six hours out of every rotation, this sort of sleep deprivation wasn’t precisely comfortable.

“No...no, I think anything else I have can be answered by your ‘supreme leader.’” Ben stood up and pushed the chair in, leaving his hands on the back of it and looking down at them for a second before looking up again. “The man on your ship. The one you said was like me. You know him well? You’ve fought with him?”

Hux made a noise.

“He was only on my ship for a short time, thirty...forty rotations. I helped facilitate one of the missions he was running in a nearby system,” Hux explained, shifting slightly up onto his elbow. Zayrâl Ren had been on a mission to find and subdue a certain subsect of the Mar-rai religion. “I didn’t oversee his endeavors, precisely, but I was definitely involved,” he shrugged with his right shoulder, eyebrows up. “Why?”

“I’m just wondering what that was like. Him. His position. His...abilities.” Ben shrugged. “You seem surprised by things I do that I’d have guessed wouldn’t give you that much concern if you’d seen someone else who could do them.”

“I had limited contact with him,” Hux explained, lying down again. “He is outside of the normal Order, in a way. And he certainly didn’t use the Force quite like you have.”

It was hard to imagine Hux co-existing with someone who was not under his command but on the same mission. Someone who didn’t fall into a neat position in the hierarchy at all. Ben wondered suddenly how typical the general was for the First Order, how well he was liked as a commander.

Ben also wondered what it would be like to work alongside him.

“So not a dating situation then?”

“What?” Hux’s eyes blinked open in confusion, and he turned to look at Ben, frowning, “where did you get that idea?”

Ben laughed and lifted his hands off the back of the chair, taking a step back. Hux’s expression was one of absolute incredulity.

“I’m just gunning your engine,” he grinned at him, shaking his head. “I mean, what was I thinking, right? You’re definitely not the kind of guy who gets into situations with someone you’re working with, right?” He grinned obnoxiously, not even remotely trying to hide it. “That’s going to throw a wrench into your feelings for me, if I decide to stay on with your little gang, isn’t it?”

Hux was frowning, confused and off-put by the jovial nature of the conversation and the absolutely ludicrous assumptions that Ben was making. These were not topics he discussed with...anyone. Possibly ever.

“That’s...totally irrelevant.”

“Because you’ll make an exception for me?” Ben tsked and shook his head in mock sympathy. “You’re making it real hard to say no, sweet cheeks.”

“That’s not at all what I was implying,” Hux said, closing his eyes, and ying back down. He was trying to ignore Ben as much as possible. The smuggler wasn’t embarrassing him, just confusing him with odd tangents and issues he preferred to keep more than private.

“Sure it’s not.” Ben winked at him, belatedly realizing Hux’s eyes were closed. Waste of a good wink.

Hux didn’t respond to the jibe, frown firmly in place, “When do you expect we’re to land?”

Back to business. Ben shrugged and glanced over at the panel over the desk, leaning to tap at one of the buttons.

“Six hours. We’ll be clearing this system in five, then taking it down a little slower, because of the atmosphere.” He glanced back at Hux, who seemed determined to at least look like he was sleeping. Smirking a little, Ben adjusted a setting on the panel and the lights in the berth dimmed. “Get some sleep. That’ll perk you right up.” He walked back to the door and paused to see if the other man would say anything.

“No, espcaf would perk me up,” Hux muttered, making a noise. “Talk about torture.”

“All these times I asked if you wanted anything, and you never asked for caf. Personally I drink it Mandalorian style. I’m guessing you just chew on the beans.” Ben leaned in the doorway, then shook his head. “Maybe I can brew some up. I mean. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Hux frowned again, tilting his head up to glance over at Ben. He nodded once.

“That would be appreciated.”

Coming from the general, that was almost effusive begging. Ben nodded and stepped back.

“You got it. Good night but not goodbye, as the song goes.” He smirked to himself and closed the door, then exhaled slowly. Six hours before the best or worst decision of his life.

Hux made a noise, but waited until the door closed to turn over on his side with his back to the door in an attempt to get some kind of rest. He knew that the next few rotations would require him to be on his best behavior.

The _Millennium Falcon_ never came out of hyperspace elegantly; even the smoothest ride made the ship shudder violently for a minute, then rattle with aftershocks as it settled. She was an old ship; she wasn’t graceful, though Ben Solo loved her and every minute he’d put into fixing her up again when he’d finally tracked her to some junkyard on Jakku. Twenty minutes later, with several vents still hissing, the ship’s captain knocked on Hux’s door with his knee before using his elbow to hit the control panel to slide it open for him. He wasn’t a waiter in some Coruscant cafe; he carried the plates and mugs awkwardly as he walked into the room.

“Are you awake? Grab something!”

Hux had slept for about four hours by his estimation, took another hour to stretch slowly, a luxury he would rarely would have allowed himself on the _Finalizer_ , and redressed, fixing his uniform carefully. He had idly picked up up a half dozen data sticks from the top crate and was disinterestedly looking through them when Ben barged into the room looking something like a circus act.

“What?” Hux was startled enough that he simply followed orders, standing up and taking the plates off the man’s forearms. He shook his head, frowning as he placed them on the table. “There must have been a better way to do that.”

Ben set the mugs down on the desk, each still steaming and obviously freshly brewed.

“Probably, but sometimes what seems straightforward in your head isn’t.” He glanced over at the general, who did look like he’d gotten some sleep and, despite the increasingly wrinkled state of his uniform, had managed to make himself look crisp and alert again. Apart from the hair that continued to flop forward over his forehead. It was longer than Ben had guessed from its tidy initial style. He gestured to everything that was laid out. “So, there you go. The last of the eggs because someone else sort of gorged himself, and a reasonable approximation of Mandalorian caf. I was a little nervous about the cream, but I think freezing it was fine.”

Hux made a noise, picking up one of the mugs and holding it in both hands as he took a step back to lean against the far wall of the berth. He wasn’t even listening to what Ben was talking about; he was a little too preoccupied with the smell of caf drifting upwards.

The general took a careful, appreciative sip and nodded, making a noise.

“Good.”

It was a compliment. Ben could barely believe his ears. That was an actual compliment.  
“Yeah, the spice cabinet fixes a lot of evils. Those aren’t the best beans, but I think I made them work for us.” Ben sat down at the desk, as he had for every meal they’d eaten together, then reached for the other mug. He inhaled the fragrant steam then took a sip and made a noise. “Yeah, I got this one.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” Hux said, going over to sit on the bed. “Even a trooper can brew a decent cup of caf.”

“This isn’t just some ‘decent cup,’ general smartass,” Ben said, holding his mug over as though it could make his point for him.

Hux glanced up, sipping from the mug. “What is it then?”

“What? This is an amazing cup of caf. This is a caf of distinction. Have you ever had anything like this before, huh? Have you ever enjoyed a cup this much?” Ben wasn’t even smiling; he was deadly serious about his skills with spices.

Hux made another noise. “Are you offering to be my personal caf-brewer on board?”

“No such offer has been made,” Ben answered, shaking his head and taking a sip of his own creation.

“Then this is only decent,” he said smartly, still holding the mug with two hands. “I assume we’re almost at our drop off location?”

“Yeah, about half an hour until descent,” Ben replied, not even bothering to roll his eyes. “Make sure you make the bed neatly and leave a tip for your stay.”

“Of course,” Hux muttered, still looking down at his mug. He glanced up at Ben, eyebrows up. “Will you tell me where we’re stopping?”

“I figured you’d want to be ready to go when we landed.” Ben took another cup of his caf.

“Just tell me the planet, Solo,” Hux said, frowning.

“Don’t call me Solo,” Ben replied immediately, expression mild and vaguely amused.

“You prefer Ben?” Hux asked, eyebrows up. He was slightly bemused, considering that he’d gone by his last name for most of his life.

The smuggler shrugged, sitting back. To be really honest, he wasn’t fond of any of the names he carried around with him. They were heavy on his shoulders with history and expectations. As soon as someone heard one of his names, he was no longer himself. He was someone’s son, someone’s nephew, someone’s grandson, someone’s namesake. Hux tilted his head to the side, watching Ben think through it all.

“That’s my name, isn’t it?” the smuggler replied finally. Even then, it wasn’t. It was the nickname for some old dead Jedi he’d never even met.

“What do you want me to call you?” he asked again, frowning.

“Ben! Ben’s fine.” He smiled and shrugged, but just one shoulder.

He was off-balance and annoyed. Hux could read him, see it easily now. He was sure that if Ben knew that Hux had some kind of sense of who he was, he would put his guard up completely. The general made a noise, looking away. He wouldn’t push it.

“Tell me the planet, Ben.”

“Tyrakos.” Ben took a deep breath and sat up again, holding the mug in both hands like some sort of anchor. “I figured going back out a bit would make this easier.”

Hux’s eyebrows snapped down.

“Is there a problem with Tyrakos, general?” Ben asked, sipping his caf slowly.

Hux made a noise as he chose his words. “It’s not a friendly system. Especially not towards the First Order.” He sighed, putting his mug down. “You may yet get to play dress up with me, captain.”

“Oh, now it’s okay for you to change out of the goofy uniform.” Ben made a noise and finished the rest of his drink before setting the mug down. “It’s not a friendly system to anyone, but that makes it easy to get out of. This should be a quick drop off. You’ve got those super amazing ships, right? How long do you think we’ll be waiting?”

“Let me have my datapad.” Hux said, frowning slightly. “I would think two hours, at most.”

Obviously expecting this request, Ben reached into his jacket and pulled the holopad out of one of many hidden pockets. He paused, holding it near his chest.

“So I’m going to hand this back. Don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

“Like what?” Hux asked, incredulous. “We’ve made our deal.” He held his hand out, gesturing slightly with his fingers.

“You might find this hard to believe,” Ben said, holding it over. “But I have trust issues.”

“The fact that you feel confident enough to tell me that is extremely worrisome,” Hux muttered, taking the datapad and quickly typing in the passcode, pressing two fingers to the upper right hand corner. “I prefer to stab my enemies through the heart.”

“What the hells are you going to be stabbing with, huh?” Ben leaned back again, but he kept his eyes unwaveringly on Hux. “You don’t really have any experience with stabbing, I’m guessing.”

“I was being facetious,” Hux said, shaking his head as he swiped across the screen, manipulating the pad quickly. He pulled up the relative realspace of Tyrakos, frowning. “Three hours. They’ll send the _Javelin_ ahead of the Star Destroyer.”

“So we have three hours to kill some time on the surface. Chewie’s just dropping us off. So it’s just going to be you and me.” Ben stood up and looked down at Hux.

Hux made a noise, staring at his datapad. He continued to dredge reports, dismissing them to make room for a better platform so he could start creating the code to hack into whatever local comm they might find on the surface. He nodded once, not glancing up at Ben.

“We’ve survived so far in each other’s presence; I can’t imagine we’d be so weak as to let ourselves kill one another just before we get on board a real ship,” he muttered, typing on the pad.

“See, you say things like that, and I wonder if you’re challenging me.” Ben stood with his hands on his hips. “What’re you doing with that now?” He let the insult to his ship slide for the moment.

“I thought we already established mine was bigger,” Hux muttered, barely smiling. He glanced up at Ben and then back down at the tech in his hands. “I’m re-coding the pad to send out a precision frequency. As it is, it doesn’t do much but count stolen goods, but it has a short-wave signal system I can reconfigure as a frequency modulator for a long-distance communicator.”

“I...don’t think we were even talking about that. But it’s not the size that always matters.” Ben walked over to take the pad from his captive’s hands. “Let’s see what you got going on here.” He stepped back to put a little distance between them. With the holopad unlocked, he tapped through some of the information, curious about what the general actually had on there. It was largely inventory, which was vaguely interesting but not too helpful with his new plan.

Hux stood up as the tech was taken, but he set his jaw before he could say anything that might sound like whining. He glared at Ben, taking a step forward into his space.

“I was working.”

Rather than step back, Ben squared his shoulders and kept his eyes on the datapad.

“You seemed pretty done to me.” He tapped through several files.

“You are mistaken,” Hux said, frowning deeply. He refused to stoop so low as to ask for it back, since he was sure that would go over so well.

“Well, what else were you going to do? Maybe I’ll see if I can do it.” Ben glanced over at Hux, raising his eyebrows. “What’s in file ‘F-01 program’?”

“I told you I’m rewriting the short wave transmitter program,” Hux almost growled. “You wouldn’t be able to adjust it, you don’t know the proper frequencies.” He stepped forward again, very close to Ben. “That program is for stormtrooper armament. It’s none of your concern.”

“Armament, huh?” Ben made a noise, keeping his eyes on the holopad. He didn’t even look up when Hux moved closer. He opened the file, drilling down through several layers and letting himself skim the information.

Frowning, Hux pulled the pad down, pressing the lock button that turned the screen black. He held onto the reinforced tech-glass, glaring up at Ben.

“That’s not information you need.” Hux said, holding onto the pad but not pulling on it. He kept his eyes on Ben’s, his gaze narrowed and icy. “I’ve been very honest with you. That program is classified.”

Ben didn’t release the pad. He just kept his eyes on Hux’s. “If you’re honest, then there shouldn’t be a problem with me looking.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you know I’m intrigued by armaments.”

“Would you let me go through your personal items?” Hux asked, still glaring at Ben. “Honesty and transparency are two different things.”

“You’ve been going through my things.” Ben’s face was still. “All of these crates are mine.”

“These crates, besides being stolen, are absolutely worthless. You actually invited me to go through them,” Hux said quietly. “Stop playing games.”

For a second, that stillness was a cover for something dangerous. Ben didn’t look away from the general, and he kept his hand on the holopad. In a second, he could have flung the general back into the wall without even touching him. For half a second, he considered it, even knowing it was an irrational reaction to the small bit of pushback the other man was giving him.

Then he smiled, retreating back into the Ben Solo who was the captain of the _Falcon_ , who was his father’s son.

“You told me there weren’t even any games on here, sweet cheeks.” He released the pad and crossed his arms, smirk in place and intact.

Hux knew, could see it, the anger, the terrible power that rose up in Ben for just an instant. He took the pad and held onto it tightly, still watching Ben. He swallowed, taking a step back.

“Just let me finish,” Hux muttered, sitting down on the bed. “Your food is getting cold.”

And there it was. The actual hesitation, the actual fear that spiked in Hux’s pale eyes for just a second, and Ben felt satisfied and pleased. That was power. That was what it was like having power when those around you knew it.

He sat down again and pulled his plate closer.

“I’ll be sad to see the eggs go. Like I said, it’s just not the same when you have to eat them powdered.”

The general didn’t respond, unlocking the pad and reopening the back door program. The code was slightly tricky, but nothing he wouldn’t be able to do. This sort of work was just knowing the language, understanding the framework and then adjusting it. He didn’t ask for his plate, and instead focused on his work with his head down.

Ben rolled his shoulders, trying to let the tension go. Part of it was the anticipation of his trip with Hux, he was excited, and there was that amount of fear he couldn’t deny. Fear was anathema to the order he didn’t technically belong to but carried around with him whenever he was making decisions...even if his decision wasn’t one that his uncle would have approved of, it was still somehow made through the Jedi lens.

The building blocks were already there, and the tweaks were easy to identify, and Hux had the code written in ten minutes. He frowned as he sat up, closing his eyes, hand at the back of his neck. He didn’t think he had moved for that entire time, focused completely on the task at hand. As a general he hadn’t been asked to write programs since his time at Arkanis. Now he only did it occasionally to solve his own problems. Better ways of organizing troopers, dispensing information, coordinating attacks. Some things were easier if you just did it yourself.

His captor watched him the whole time, though it wasn’t exactly a fascinating show. The general hadn’t seemed like the coding type, but as Ben watched the angle of his bent head and the slight inward pull of his shoulders, the intensity and concentration didn’t indicate that he was unsure of himself, but that he was very involved in an activity he was both good at and interested in.

Finally Hux looked over at Ben. He frowned, putting the pad down on the bed. “What is it?”

Ben shrugged and ate the remaining bit of egg from his plate. “Nothing. Just watching you and wondering how often you do this type of thing. That seems like the happiest I’ve seen you.”

“I'm also your prisoner,” Hux pointed out. “I'm not sure you have any real frame of reference.”

“Well talk to me then! What makes you happy then, sweet cheeks? When you're in your ship, what do you do for fun?” Ben’s smirk was waiting for an answer akin to ‘counting buttons on my uniform’ or ‘making sure my frown is perfectly even in a mirror.’

It didn't take any amount of perception to read the teasing grin on the other man's face. It infuriated Hux, that this man was looking for excuses to poke fun at him. “I don't have spare time for frivolity,” he said, shrugging. “But I do enjoy the time spent in the gymnasium.”

Now that Hux had said it, Ben found that he was surprised, but differently. The man didn’t seem like someone who liked to get sweaty.

“To...oversee training?” he asked in a tone that was half teasing, half legitimate curiosity. He could definitely imagine the general seeing it as a genuine pleasure to stand and disdain everything attempted by the troopers in front of him.

Hux frowned, still annoyed and untrusting. “Sometimes.”

“So...we would be safe to say that you get most of your enjoyment from...watching?” Ben smiled slowly.

“Usually I’m not there to watch troopers,” Hux said, frown still firmly in place. “My infantry captain oversees their training.”

“So what are you doing there then, hmm?” Ben tapped on the edge of his plate with his fork then set it down.

“What people normally do in gyms, obviously,” Hux said, his tone wary.

“You don’t seem like that type. Looking at you, I mean.” Ben’s smile was still there at the corners of his mouth. Teasing, but still curious.

Hux made a noise, sitting up a little. “What’s that mean?”

“Do you...I mean, do you spar or jog a bit?” Ben laughed a bit.

“Both, depending on the time and availability. Jogging is usually easier,” he said, shrugging. “I do some other activities when I have the time and inclination.”

“I...okay.” Ben nodded slowly, but his smile said he didn’t really think that Hux could handle himself in a fight or any other sort of physical situation.

Hux made a noise, angry now. “What was the point of those questions?” His shoulders were tense, eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

Ben could feel the anger from Hux, and it was so different from his indifference or disgust or zeal for his Order or his fear. The anger was more compelling, more interesting. It was something he knew so much better, and it was as though the other man’s anger resonated with his. And that made him smile more.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m just thinking that being a general writing code all day sounds like just about the coziest job I can think of.” His thumbs were hooked casually in his belt.

“Then you have a basic misunderstanding of my job,” Hux muttered, frowning.

“You get into fistfights on a regular basis then? The First Order sounds like a unique sort of military organization.” Ben could keep his tone superior.

“Of course not,” Hux was almost constantly frustrated and annoyed with Ben. He always seemed to be asking questions just to get a rise out of him. “Sparring is part of basic training.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re well versed in taking a hit, waiting for the whistle, then getting up so the next guy can take his turn.” Ben leaned his chair back, a symbol of his total relaxation.

“That’s not how sparring works.”

“Mmhmm. I have some experience with it. More than just a passing level of ‘basic training.’” Pride was a huge motivation for him, and he was reveling in the feeling he had now. The idea of Hux as a man of planning, vision, hands-off management, with no real connection to anything that wasn’t pure concept.

Hux made a noise, shaking his head again as he pushed his hair back. The general was a young man, and not given to laziness or self-indulgence. Sometimes hitting someone was just the kind of stress relief he needed. “So you’re used to barfights and scraps over stolen goods. Sounds to me like you just know how to fight dirty.”

“I know how to fight to win,” Ben answered, and suddenly his jaw was tighter. “I can fight with more weapons than you’ve ever held in your hands, general.” The use of the title was no accident. It wasn’t teasing, and it wasn’t respect.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Hux said, his face impassive again. Ben was touchy when it came to his own prowess, and it was always noticeable when his pride had been touched, even slightly.

Ben’s response was immediate and fierce, again his mood switching with the tiniest bit of provocation. The right provocation.

“You’ve never used a sword. You’ve never held a lightsaber.” He spat it at Hux like an accusation, like an insult.

“A lightsaber?” Hux snorted, rolling his eyes. “No, but that’s mostly because they’re basically useless. I do, however, know how to fence. Another basically useless form of combat.”

Ben thought of his lightsaber, the one he’d trained with, that his uncle still kept for him to use when he showed up at the Temple with the sincere intention to finish his training. It felt so right in his hand, the hum of it traveling up the bones in his wrist and balancing his wide swings. He hated the blaster he wore on his hip. He hated how common it was.

“You don’t know anything about it,” he nearly growled, eyes fixed on Hux’s face. “If you faced one, you’d know they’re far from useless in the hands of the right man.”

“Are you that man?” Hux asked, eyes narrowed. He gestured at Ben’s outfit. “I’ve only seen you carry a blaster.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed as well; how dare this man limit him by the clothes on his back.

“It’s not my only weapon.” Before he knew what he was doing, almost, the smuggler had raised his right hand and extended the Force. Hux was forced off the bed, slammed into the wall and released. The crates he’d knocked into tumbled down beside him.

The power was unlike anything Hux had ever felt before, and he stared at Ben, breathing hard, a flush on his cheeks. He was...he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Anger, definitely. No small amount of embarrassment for his current state, splayed on the floor as he glared at the other man. Jealousy, absolute attention, something like envy and desire. He wanted that. He wanted it. Hux took a deep breath, looking down as he pushed himself up, dusting off his uniform.

“There must have been a better way to make your point clear,” Hux said quietly, forcing himself not to growl or sneer as he straightened his jacket. Ben’s hand was still out, fingers curled in slightly where they’d been tight with tension a moment before. He was taking deep breaths as well, feeling the immediate emotional drop as he reeled it back in, took control of the power that was always bubbling up inside him with the desire to do something. He lowered his arm to his side, balling his hand into a fist as one of his uncle’s calming chants went forcibly through his head. He had to pull back, but the rage was still there, even if his face was calm again.

“It seems to have made my point rather...eloquently.” He licked his lips. “You should pick up those things you knocked over.”

“You can do it just as well from where you’re sitting,” Hux snapped, not moving. “I wouldn’t want to upset you by going through your things.”

This time, Ben stood up with a suddenness that knocked the rickety chair down onto its back.

“I suggest you do it before I have to tell you again. Clean up your mess.” His voice was a low growl, fingers moving by his side.

Hux shifted, putting his hands behind his back, staring intently at Ben. He knew what was rising, could see the danger and the unhinging taking place. And all this over a dismissive comment about a lightsaber?

“The is how you want to intimidate me? Over spilled data sticks?” Hux asked quietly, staring at Ben without moving. “We will be off this ship soon,” he muttered. “This is hardly becoming of a man in whom I have placed my trust.”

“Becoming.” That’s what it felt like, whenever he let himself just act the way he wanted to. When he just let his emotions and the Force move together. It was natural, it wasn’t the strain that Jedi training seemed to want to create for him. For a moment there, when he’d felt that invisible power catch hold of the general, it felt like he was becoming something else. Something stronger and better, something he was supposed to be. “There is very little trust you’ve placed in me; it feels like all the trust is coming from my side.”

Hux made a noise, shaking his head. “Speaking to you as I have is a gesture of trust. You enjoy it, you’ve gone out of your way to come into this room and pursue conversation. I have made attempts to show goodwill throughout this journey.”

Ben licked his lips, letting the uncertainty show on his face more than he ever intended to.

“I’ve been a better host than you’d have had on any Republic ship.” He took a deep breath and glanced at the wall panel. “Are you finished? We’ll be landing shortly.” He paused. “Oh, also you’ll need to be restrained. Per the story I told Chewie.”

The general stepped over the crates, standing closer to Ben. He reached past the smuggler, leaning down to get the datapad, and held it out to the other man. “If that’s what’s needed,” Hux said, voice calm. “Should I wait here or stay with you?”

Ben accepted the pad, unsure if he’d won this round or lost it. He took a deep breath as he tucked the tech away into the inner pocket of his jacket again.

“You can come with me. Have you ever actually been in restraints before?” he tried with a hint of his earlier smile.

“Not in this context, no,” Hux agreed, shrugging. Ben’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“What context did that show up in then, huh?” He couldn’t keep the genuine curiosity out of his voice.

“Training,” Hux said, frowning slightly. He gestured, indicating the door. “Can we go? I’d like to be in a secure position before we go through another drop out of hyperspace.”

Ben stepped back to let Hux walk out before he did, leaving the dishes there. Chewie could take care of them; he wouldn’t be here. He touched his shoulder to indicate he should keep walking, grabbing the restraints off the Dejarik table as they walked by.

The contact was casual and not unusual, still, Hux couldn’t help the surge of anger and disgust that came from the touch. His face didn’t change at all, but he continued through the _Falcon_ , his reaction fading. He swallowed, looking over at the restraints as Ben picked them up.

“Your training was a hell of a lot different than mine was,” Ben muttered as he unfastened them. He took a deep breath. “Okay, give me those paws, general.”

“I would never assume likenesses between us,” Hux said, holding his hands towards Ben. “It seems an easy way to be proven wrong.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to make you feel bad about the old Arkanis upbringing,” the smuggler said, looking down to fit the restraints onto Hux’s wrists and tightening them appropriately. He looked up when he was done. “Comfy?”

“Extremely,” Hux muttered, tilting his head up.

“Great, come on.” Ben took Hux’s elbow as though the other man needed some direction to the cockpit.

Hux bristled but didn't pull away, letting Ben lead him to the cockpit. He sat down as gracefully as he could manage and fastened himself in. The smuggler took his seat next to Chewbacca, who looked over and said a few things that sounded untrusting and mournful. Ben smiled at his co-pilot.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got him trussed up pretty well and, I mean, look at him. Does he look like he’d be able to best me if things went south?” He laughed over Chewie’s agreement, then reached over to flip one of the vent switches before looking back to their passenger.

Hux glared at Ben, but pressed his mouth to keep it shut. Ben looked back to the viewscreen as the surface of the planet got closer to them. True to form, the ship bucked and rattled, with both captain and co-pilot actively working to keep the _Falcon_ level and in one piece. There might have been praying involved as well, but when he sat back, Ben looked proud and relaxed. Another perfect landing.

Hux’s eyes were closed, his head back against the headrest. He had so little faith in the _Falcon_ it was surprising to him that he could still breathe the air.

“Well, here’s where we get off.” Ben unstrapped himself and stood up, patting Chewie’s shoulder. “I’ll call you when I’m ready for pick up. You take the shipment back to dad so he can finish up that whole issue with Ganabi. Finally.” Chewbacca roared his response, reaching over to lower the ramp. Ben walked over to Hux, gesturing. “Come on, up.”

Hux released the belt and stood up, pulling his greatcoat more firmly about his shoulders. He nodded at Chewbacca, a dismissal and good riddance, before turning in front of Ben and walking towards the ramp.

“You have the pad?”

Ben patted the front of his jacket and nodded. “Yeah, just where you saw me put it half an hour ago. You ready to be my prisoner?”

“Just have two blasters on you and be ready to hand one over,” Hux muttered, standing at the ramp, eyes narrowed. “I can shoot cuffed.”

As they passed a hidden storage compartment on their way to the ramp, Ben paused and tapped an area to release the cover. He pulled it off and set it down on the floor, leaning against the wall, while he rummaged through the contents. It was a smuggling ship; it was full of areas like this.

Hux wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or impressed by the smuggler’s compartment. His eyebrows rose as he waited for Ben. “What are you getting?”

“Didn’t you want a blaster? It’s like you forget our discussions ten seconds after we have them,” Ben answered, not even looking back to Hux. “I had to stash it...last time...okay, here.” He pulled another holster with a blaster tucked into it from the compartment, then looked down to attach it to his belt using the clips there; obviously, he often chose to carry one on each hip and had the equipment for it. The one on his right side was Hux’s, the one he’d taken from him that first day at the warehouse.

“Just keep me on your right then,” Hux said, and it was almost an order.

Ben looked up when the second clasp had snapped into his belt buckle.

“Why on my right? Two blasters. Two. One on each side.” He gestured from one to the other in case Hux had missed this obvious fact.

“That one’s mine,” Hux stated, his tone clipped as he looked down at Ben. Ben looked down at the gun on his right hip and laughed. He put his hand on the grip and looked at Hux again.

“This one? I think I took it fair and square. Finders keepers.”

“I’ll get you another,” Hux said lowly. “I’m on your right.”

“Mother of Kwath, you’re a pain in my ass, do you know that?” Ben shook his head. “Of course you know it. Look at you. Look at your hat. You’re not even wearing it, and it’s annoying me.” He took Hux’s elbow when they got to the ramp, then slid his fingers more tightly around his arm when they got to the bottom.

Hux glared at Ben from his vantage point, taking a step back and allowing Ben to hold onto him. He didn’t pull away as they walked down the ramp, and the general took a deep breath, calming himself down. Tyrakos was going to be supremely unfriendly towards them, but Hux was sure that between the quasi-Jedi using his mind tricks and the fact that he would stay cuffed, they would be able to present an appearance that wouldn’t cause too much fuss. Ben wasn’t as concerned, partly because he was used to going to planets that weren’t particularly hospitable towards him for one reason or another. He looked around as they cleared the _Falcon_ , gauging which direction seemed the most likely to have what they needed.

The general set his jaw, and he tolerated Ben's touch, annoyed but determined as he was pulled along. Tyrakos, for all its animosity, would not get the better of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> action! adventure! minor character death!

Ben squinted his eyes against the dust that filled the air as he watched the _Millennium Falcon_ rise up and away from the surface of Tyrakos. He held his breath to keep the grit out of his lungs. There was a sudden surge of panic in his gut, knowing Chewie was leaving him here, knowing that he’d lied, knowing that he was doing something he shouldn’t do. But he wasn’t a child anymore. This was a decision and his consequences were his own. It was hard not to tell himself he was stupid for taking pride in that. The smuggler ran his hand through his hair to get some of the dust out of it, then brushed off the sleeves of his black coat. The hot, unpleasant breeze would take care of the rest. He turned to look at Hux, who was similarly dust-covered and evidently more displeased about it. He reached over to take his elbow; the general was his ransom fodder after all.

“Okay, prisoner, let’s head over to the station over there and see what they’re buying and selling. We’ll get a good feel where to go to get to a comm unit you can plug into.” He gave Hux’s arm a little tug.

Pushing down his pride, Hux let himself be pulled along, keeping up with Ben easily. “We’ll have to stay by the unit until we hear back that it’s been received,” he said quietly, glancing around and assessing threats even on the small, half deserted landing strip. “If you must, you shouldn’t hesitate to push me around,” he muttered, keeping his eyes open. “However, I would appreciate some warning.”

“If I warn you, it’s not going to seem very realistic. You won’t, I mean; I hate to assume, but acting didn’t come up in that basic training, did it?” Ben smirked and gave him a little jerk to prove his point, enough to just barely pull the general off balance for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to stumble.

Hux made a noise as he regained his footing, glaring over at Ben. “Careful,” Hux growled. “Or we won’t get off this rock intact.”

“Well...I will.” Ben winked at him, then pulled him into the small station. The whole place was busy and louder than it had seemed from outside. He looked over when one of the locals took great pains to knock his shoulder against the First Order general as he passed by him.

His jaw already set, the young general tensed his shoulders tensed as they walked through the space way-station. Tyrakos wasn’t exactly a hub of respectable people, and it served mostly as stop on the way to larger, more profitable planets. It’s position in the Drev-Loan arc made it important for shipping purposes, and the Order was loathe to leave such a place open for all business. Hux walked through the station like he was going through a minefield, hating that he had to rely on the smuggler next to him for even a modicum of security.

On the other hand, Ben walked through as though he was the reason the planet kept on turning. He nodded to someone he didn’t know, winked at someone who looked like they wanted to kill him, lifted a lizard knife (he’d always wanted one, that snapping sound they made when they unfolded was so incredible!), and that was all before they’d made it to the line by the main counter. He subtly kept his eyes moving around while they waited, noting every exit, every weapon, every type of sentient around them and judged pretty accurately that most of the attention was on the man whose arm he was holding.

“I’m going to ask for some information on a few carriers that I know come through here, then we’ll head to the comm unit, okay?” he murmured without looking in Hux’s direction.

Although neither of them knew it, Hux’s actions mirrored Ben’s. He took in most of the details just as quickly as Ben did. Though his shoulders were still tight, he didn’t resent the hand around his arm. Judging the risks, Hux ducked his head, then turned slightly into Ben. “Eyes behind you. A Korillan left as soon as he saw us.”

The smuggler made an agreeing noise. “He won’t be in line of vision when we walk out; he’ll need someone in here to tell him where we’re headed.” Without realizing he was doing it, Ben rubbed Hux’s arm with his thumb, the way he normally rubbed a particular curve on the blaster by his side.

“He recognized me.” Hux muttered, frowning deeply. He looked up again, noting that many sentients had turned back to their drinks or food or company. A few were still actively glaring at them, and a larger number had put their weapons in plain sight on top of the tables or counters. The two moved up in the line, though Ben continued to make sure he didn’t look directly at his apparent bounty.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Not personally, I’m sure,” he muttered, then took a deeper breath as they stepped up to the counter. “Hey there. I’m trying to make heads or tails of the schedule down by the south strips. I know that the Junko sisters usually head in there, but I have a feeling that I have my dates and systems crossed. Are they in?”

Hux’s temper flared again, but he didn’t respond. He looked around as Ben spoke to the sentient at the counter, who snapped whatever kind of betel-leaf gum she could find on this forsaken rock.

“Dunno who you’re lookin’ for, slick, but those sisters haven’t come through here in months,” the woman said, leaning on both of her right arms, looking the smuggler and his prisoner up and down with casual disregard. “You’d have more luck pawning that fringe group darlin’ on some dumb Hutt.”

“I keep telling myself I’m done with Hutts. They’re all washed up anyway. Besides, this isn’t Hutt merchandise.” Ben looked over at Hux and grinned as he turned back to the sentient at the counter. “You should get a load of the mouth on him.”

It took so much of Hux’s concentration not to snap at Ben. Instead he set his jaw again, turning his wrist slightly.

“Ain’t the mouth I’m worried about,” she said, gesturing with her left hands. “Anything else you want, sugar?”

“I’m dying for some caf. Last port I set down in, they tried to pass off this weak wampa piss for it, and I’m in need of a real cup, brewed strong.” Ben smiled and leaned on the counter. “I have a feeling you never let a guy down.”

Hux rolled his eyes, looking upwards as if to find some kind of strength. He sighed as he looked over at Ben, and then past him, watching a table that had leaned in very close, talking fast in some language Hux didn’t recognize.

“You got it,” she said, leaning over to plug in the order. “And anything for the mouth?”

“Pass,” Hux muttered, glancing up at her with his eyebrows up. Ben laughed and shrugged.

“We’re doing the old ‘hunger strike’ routine. I figured the Junkos would fix that up straight.” He reached into his bag to pull out the credits for his drink. “By the way, where should I head to give those girls a buzz to come pick up their new pet slash punching bag?”

The general stayed still, and he looked around again, expression fiercely set. The woman behind the counter gestured absently.

“There’s a pair of linkup stations that way,” she said, pointing to the hallway that went back into the larger complex as she counted the coins on the counter quickly with two other hands. “Costs five credits per minute, so plan your speech out.”

“Five credits?” Ben protested, shaking his head once. “Are you kidding me?”

“If only you were actually that cheap,” Hux muttered, glaring at Ben. The smuggler reached up and smacked the general in the back of the head, then grinned over at the sentient by the counter.

“You see what I’m dealing with? I need to offload this. The blowjobs aren’t worth it.” Ben reached for the cup that was steaming as it waited for him.

Even though the smack was light, Hux’s glare seemed to increase in intensity, and any one would assume that he wanted nothing more than to rip Ben apart limb from limb. They wouldn't be entirely wrong, despite the fact that only a few minutes earlier Hux had given Ben permission to make it convincing.

“Anything else, gorgeous?” the counter woman asked as her asymmetrical eyebrows rose, tone bored. It was obvious that she couldn’t care less about this domestic dispute before her, and that she had seen worse in the last hour.

“Nah, I think I’m good, ma’am. Thanks for all your help.” Ben sipped from his cup and didn’t gag through force of will and practice. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let me go make a call and get my money.” He nodded to the woman then yanked on Hux’s arm. He looked over at him as they headed for the door. The other man’s red hair was sticking up in the back now.

Hux said nothing as he was pulled forward. Behind them the woman gestured the next person in line to give his order. They were already forgotten.

The general was furious, and he knew, he hoped rather, that Ben could feel his anger coming off him. He wanted to project his unrestrained fury directly into Ben’s brain, like some kind of psychic holovid that included Hux beating the smuggler into the dirty lino-covering of the way station. The smuggler was very aware of exactly how the general felt, and it was actually highly amusing to him. His smile was just that much more genuine.

“Come on, can’t you walk any faster?” Ben asked almost gleefully. “Didn’t you learn some sort of quicktime in basic training?” He watched their surroundings carefully as they left the main part of the building, heading back to the area the counter woman had indicated. It wasn’t a question of whether there was anyone waiting for them. It was where and how many.

Hux was too busy fuming to respond, and he continued to think malicious thoughts about how he would like to hurt Ben. He logically knew he had to calm down, and he took a deep breath to let his anger fade as they continued through the complex. Ben knew that the general was aware of the situation, and he trusted him enough not to murmur a warning toward him. The hallway opened up into an alleyway between buildings, and Ben made a noise as he paused, looking at the smaller outbuildings before them.

“Okay...so which one do we actually need?”

“One where nobody will find your body,” Hux growled, eyes narrowed. It was an empty threat, for the most part, and he wasn’t trying to pull away from the smuggler, although he did lower his hands slightly to put them closer to his blaster on Ben’s hip. “It doesn’t matter, just pick one.”

Ben walked forward with Hux, hand loosening on his elbow. He took a deep breath, blinking very slowly as he felt through the area.

“The one to the left,” he said after a second. “They’re expecting us there.” He looked over at Hux. “The first question is will they stay there to meet us. The other question is can you handle them.”

Hux frowned, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “How many?”

“Four in the building...about four anyway.” Ben frowned and looked to their right. “There are more to pick up the pieces. There are a lot of people who hate you.”

“Far more who haven’t lived long enough to do something about it,” Hux growled, his eyes icy. He was completely focused with military precision born of lifelong training. “The ship will take at least two hours to get here. Will these people be intimidated by a few charred bodies or will I have to declare war on the entire damn planet?”

Ben looked at him and rolled his eyes expressively. “Is this how most of your planet takeovers start?” He started walking again. “How quickly can you actually place this call?”

“Depends on how far away the _Finalizer_ is,” Hux muttered, still looking around. “The transmission might take fifteen minutes, but as soon as my bridge colonel receives it, we’ll get a near-instant ping,” he explained, his fingers itching to be on his blaster.

“Earlier you said we’d have to wait. Is fifteen minutes the upper end of your approximate time? I need to know how much time I’m buying you here.” Ben rolled his shoulders as they got closer to the doors.

“Tyrakos is closer to where you picked me up than I had assumed,” Hux said quietly, noting that Ben seemed full of nervous energy, spoiling for a fight, “If the _Finalizer_ hasn’t moved, which it shouldn’t have under my own orders, fifteen minutes.”

“We can take care of these idiots in half that time...I wish I knew who they’d called in.” Ben shook his head once, eyes fixed on the door. He was ready for whomever was waiting for them. It had nothing to do with protecting Hux and everything to do with those minutes of the actual fight.

“It’ll be easier for both of us if you uncuff me.” Hux glanced around, looking from Ben to the door. The smuggler paused and nodded slowly. He turned to Hux, then grabbed the blaster out of his holster and turned to face the man who’d come out of the hall outlet behind them.

“You should probably stop right there,” Ben called, raising his voice to let it carry. “You don’t have friendly eyebrows. Not one out of the four.”

Perfect timing, Hux thought scathingly. He didn’t look behind him, counting on Ben to protect his back, even though he knew that it was some new kind of stupid. He didn’t have it in him to be annoyed that Ben had drawn the First Order blaster from his right side, as it left him clear access to the smuggler’s other blaster.

The door to the small linkup booth opened, and Hux didn’t hesitate to draw Ben’s blaster. Even cuffed he held it straight, keeping to perfect military form. He stood, half of his back against Ben’s, his shoulder against Ben’s spine.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Hux said, his voice carrying easily. It was a tone used to deliver speeches to his officers, to explain and calm. “There’s no benefit to causing a scene.”

Though he knew he should have just taken care of the whole situation, Ben hoped that Hux could at least take out one of their attackers before being shot himself. He liked the feel of the blaster in his hand; the First Order tech was superior, that was a fact.

“Just leave the trash there, pirate. We can take care of him. You can take your skin with you and call yourself lucky.” The Zygerrian facing Ben had his blaster trained on the smuggler. “You don’t even know who you have.”

“Oh? Don’t I? Why don’t you tell me?” Ben drawled, not looking behind himself. He kept his eyes on the sentient who’d addressed him.

“He knows,” the Bothan facing Hux said in a rough voice. Her face had a series of scars marring the right side. “If there’s anyone who knows a big ticket item that’ll get him into trouble, it’s Ben kriffing Solo.”

Hux narrowed his eyes, leveling Ben’s gun with the Bothan’s head.

The Zygerrian groaned and shook his head.

“Just shoot him already,” he said with an exaggerated annoyance that masked something else. Ben made an answering noise, and it wasn’t his father’s general stalling sound. It was a genuine warning.

“Really? You’re going to try that?” Ben smiled slowly, rolling his shoulder again and setting his heels.

“If you know who I am, you know that attacking will be a grave mistake,” Hux said, head tilted up. He could feel Ben shift behind him.

“Anyone knows that this is stormtrooper number seventy-three? Four?” Even though he was still talking calmly, the danger underneath Ben’s tone again. “Just turn around and walk away.”

“You’re outnumbered, Solo,” the Zygerrian sneered, raising his blaster. “Just put your gun down and we’ll-”

Hux didn’t make a noise, but his adrenaline spiked and he quickly fired three shots, downing two of the three visible bodies. The third fell back, grabbing at her shoulder with a clawed hand. He didn’t wait to step forward with his eyes focused and fearless as he shot at the last sentient who was stupid enough to glance across the landing bay, looking for the cause of the gunshots. The other sentient had his gun raised, almost peeking around the doorframe before his head was snapped back. It was a dead shot, right in between the stalks of his eyes, and it would have seemed lucky to anyone who didn’t know the general.

Hux continued to walk forward, his coat billowing, his gaze absolutely glacial.

“Take him out,” Hux ordered, raising Ben’s gun one more time to finish off the injured Bothan as she scrabbled for her blood-slicked blaster. Ben smiled slightly at the Zygerrian who was still standing and staring at the sudden aftermath of what hadn’t even been a scene a moment before.

The smuggler raised his blaster and fired. Or attempted to fire. His jaw tightened as he pulled the trigger again. It didn’t fire, again. The Zyggerian laughed suddenly, harshly.

“What’s the matter, Solo? Forgot how it works?” He growled as he fired his own blaster. Ben was just as ready. He dropped the useless blaster but left his right hand extended. He caught the blaster bolt mid-flight, then met the Zyggerian’s eyes. The bolt crackled in the hot air between them, blue against the dingy rust color of the ground and the buildings.

Hux glanced back, kicking one of the bodies out of the doorway. Throughout it all, he was annoyed that his boot was getting dirty and that he was still cuffed like some kind of damn prisoner. As he looked up, he saw Ben, hand up, and knew there must have been something there. Hux’s eyes widened slightly as he realized what exactly Ben was holding back.

“It doesn’t matter. That’s First Order trash anyway, isn’t it?” Ben frowned as he watched the other sentient staring at the floating bolt. He raised his chin slightly, then sent the bolt back into the center of the Zyggerian’s chest.

Hux tried very hard not to be impressed by the stunt, but he felt almost sick with jealousy. That was some kind of raw power, that was...incredible. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, and he would certainly never admit it to Ben. He made a frustrated noise, kicking a dropped blaster inside the small linkup station.

“I need the pad!” He turned away from Ben, frowning. “And bring me my kriffing gun!”

“What in the fourteen hells are you going to do with a gun that doesn’t shoot?” Ben snarled back, though he snatched up the blaster from the ground as he turned to follow the other man into the link up station. “Oh, do not even tell me that the kriffing thing only shoots for you! When were you going to tell me?” His hackles were still up, still running on the adrenaline of the fight, especially that moment Hux’s blaster was a useless piece of tech trash in his hand. When he caught up with the general, he grabbed onto the center piece of his wrist restraints and yanked him back around to face him. “Let me get these damned things off you.” He unlocked them, even those small movements caught up in a certain violence. Hux had been examining the station when he was pulled around to face Ben. He glared at the other man as the shackles fell, shrugging. Ben held his eyes as he let the restraints drop to the ground, then he shoved the holopad into one of Hux’s hands as he leaned in close to the other man’s face. “Do not withhold information like that from me again. General.”

“You seemed to handle yourself fine without it,” Hux said coolly, turning back to the station and opening up the pad to run the revised pingback program. The linkup station hummed to life, and within a minute Hux had the pad overriding the set frequency data. He placed it on the dashboard, and the entire station’s screens buzzed and hummed.

Taking a step back, Hux ran his hand through his hair, fixing it into an imitation of order. He nodded and looked over at Ben, making a noise. “My gun?”

Ben almost growled as he held out his hand. Which was empty.

“Mine first.” He didn’t take his eyes off Hux’s as they stood there. He hadn’t allowed the general to put much more distance between them, and in the small room, his anger made him seem like he took up a disproportionate amount of space.

The general almost rolled his eyes, turning back to the console and picking up Ben’s gun, handing it to him the same way he had handed his own blaster over, pointing it away from both of them. “Now would be a poor time to endanger our friendship,” he muttered, aware of Ben’s imposition and ignoring it, not moving away himself. Ben accepted his gun and slid it into the holster on his hip before handing the other one over.

“Yes. It would be. I’m glad you’re realizing this now.” He stepped past the other man to look over the data screens. He wasn’t exactly sure what the general had done; this wasn’t his area of expertise, in any way. But he nodded nonetheless before moving back to the open door and glancing out before leaning down to grab onto the limp hands of the Bothan to drag her body out of the doorway and out into the alleyway. Dead bodies lying in the back streets wasn’t exactly out of place in a fine locale like this one.

Hux put his blaster back into his own holster, glancing around at the other dead body on the floor. He made a noise like disgust in the back of his throat and leaned up against the wall, leaving Ben to pull the body out of the station. He made a noise, glancing around.

“Did you manage to bring those cigarettes with you?”

Ben hoped his expression said everything he was thinking. He shook his head once and made a noise, then crouched down again to go through the dead Bothan’s jacket pockets. He pulled out a pack of the thicker, cheaper cigarettes that floated around stations like this and tossed it over to the general.

“Enjoy.”

The general caught the pack and made a face, but he pulled out one of the sticks and looked over at Ben.

“You want one?”

Ben shook his head, leaning in the open doorway to keep watch. It was impossible that no one else had heard the gunfire, though there were many who would take that as a warning sign to avoid the area. However, he had no idea what sort of affiliations their downed attackers had, and how many others who weren’t even working with them would want their own crack at the First Order general.

Hux made a noise, tucking the remainder of the pack into one of his pockets. “I need a light.”

The smuggler glanced over at him, arms folded over his chest.

“Oh yeah? I bet she had a lighter.” He motioned with one disinterested hand to the body on the floor. The dead Bothan’s ear tufts were moving slightly in the hot, dry breeze that blew in from the alley. “Go digging.”

“Don’t be coy,” Hux muttered, gesturing very slightly. “Just do the little trick you were so happy to show me last time, and I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Ben looked away from the alley again to glance at the general. He was still for a moment then crooked one of his fingers at the other man to beckon him closer.

Hux made a noise, stepping over another dead arm to stand in front of Ben, eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure that Ben was going to perform the little flame trick again or if he would shove Hux onto the Bothan’s corpse to make a point. It was the wariness in the general’s eyes that made Ben smile again. It wasn’t fear, it was distrustful concern, and it struck the smuggler, at this moment and in this situation, as being exceptionally funny.

Bringing the fire to his fingers was barely any effort, and the little flame caught the leaves at the end of the cigarette immediately. The scent was pungent and sharper than the cigarettes he kept on the _Falcon_. He associated the fire trick with the candles Leia lit with it, those sweet candles scented with nlorna that she kept in her private rooms away from the loud Senate chambers.

Hux wrinkled his nose but leaned into Ben, bringing his other hand up near the flame, almost by instinct. There had been too many cigarettes extinguished in the dreary cold Arkanis mornings to allow him to risk letting a flame go out. He pulled back, taking a drag and exhaling away from Ben as he stepped back into the station.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly, leaning back against the wall and turning to watch the linkup station.

“Yeah, no problem,” Ben replied after a minute, crossing his arms again and face out to watch for potential trouble outside. He leaned quasi-comfortably against the doorframe and crossed one ankle over the other, glancing down at the scuffs, dirt, and blood on his boots. “Hey, I have a question for you.”

The general didn’t look away from the console, reading the spikes and code returns from the datapad and frowning slightly. He made a noise, gesturing with the cigarette after taking another drag. “So ask.”

“How did these lowlifes know exactly who you were?” Ben’s dark eyebrows flicked up slightly and he looked over at the other man again. He judged by his expression that the amazing ship he commanded wasn’t actually paying attention to him yet. “I didn’t even have to go poking into their heads. ‘General Hux’ was the name they were all basically screaming mentally. Do you also front some sort of musical act in addition to playing general for the First Order?”

“I don’t play General,” Hux said, tearing his eyes away from the beeping holopad to look up at Ben. It was obvious that the man had little inclination of the kind of weight that he held within the Order. “I am one of the most successful generals the Order has. It’s not unusual that sentients in the Outer Rim recognize me. The hair is a dead giveaway,” he added quietly, taking another drag before looking back at the station.

“Nope, that still doesn’t make sense. How would these people even know what obnoxious color your hair was? Unless you, personally, took over all their individual planets and ships...which I know for a fact you haven’t, because, for one thing, the Zyggerians maintain their sovereignty and have since before the Clone Wars. And these aren’t exactly nationalists in any event.” Ben made a noise and shook his head. “They knew you on sight. How?”

Hux made a frustrated noise, glaring at the holopad.

“There are prop-holos in circulation,” he grudgingly admitted. “I am easily recognizable in many of them.”

“In circulation?” Ben asked with a wry expression. “So...you’re saying they know you from your First Order trading cards?” He tilted his head slightly. “I didn’t know you were an entertainment celebrity. That’s new. I like it.”

“It’s not for entertainment,” Hux said under his breath, looking up at Ben again. “They’re distributed on planets and in systems the Republic has abused or forgotten.”

“‘Abused or forgotten.’ That’s a big accusation.” He knew, with a little pang of shame for his mother’s government, that is wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Not by a long shot. Leia lamented the fact often. “So you’re the face the First Order puts out for recruitment and continued...loyalty then.” Ben took a long moment to look the general over. He couldn’t help but think the man was a strange choice, though obviously he was a man whose own dedication to the Order was absolute and unflagging. He was also absolutely chilly and severe to the extreme. Ben didn’t necessarily see any of that as a bad sign; it intrigued him, to see an organization for which this man in front of him was their chosen representative.

It didn’t hurt that he did have nice cheekbones.

Hux made a noise in the affirmative, shrugging one shoulder. It was something he had done grudgingly, seeing the benefit but annoyed by the action required. He focused on the holopad, taking another long drag from the cheap leaf cigarette and letting the smoke out of his nose slowly.

“One of a few, yes.” Hux ignored the way that Ben was looking him over, almost as if the smuggler were appraising him, holding him up to some kind of scale with which to judge him. He set his jaw, slightly annoyed by this development. He wondered, idly, how much of a mind reader Ben really was.

“How did you know they were thinking about my name, specifically?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the pad to watch Ben carefully, eyes moving over his shoulders, analyzing his stance. “What’s the difference between knowing and ‘looking’ for it?”

Ben shrugged, not even bothering to hide how he was watching the other man. He was still leaning casually in the doorway, as though there was nothing he could spot coming toward them that would present too much of a danger, from his perspective.

“Simpler minds are louder and they…” He looked up as though he’d find the exact word he was looking for above him. “They’re broadcasting almost. Shouting their intentions. A subtler mind is a more guarded mind, just naturally, even without training. This scum was all of the simple variety.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hux took another long drag of the cigarette before dropping it and crushing it under the toe of his boot. Exhaling slowly, he glanced up at Ben.

“And my mind?”

Ben had looked back out the door while Hux took his time with the cigarette. He didn’t bother to turn his head back to face him, he just slid his eyes over to meet the general’s. An almost painfully transparent question. He smiled slowly, letting the silence spread between them for an extra moment.

“Exactly what I’d expected.” He looked back to the empty alley, still smiling to himself. “Need another light?”

Hux rolled his eyes, shaking his head once.

“I’ll let you know if I’m ever in need,” he muttered. He had no time to really be annoyed by the pettiness of Ben’s answer, because at that moment the holopad let out one sharp beep that captured his attention. The smuggler turned his head at that sound, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Good news?” he asked. “Because otherwise, we need to move for a bit.”

“The _Finalizer_ has received our transmission...” Hux read out, leaning over the console and staring at message streaming across the holopad screen. Hux had programmed his message into the code on the _Falcon_ ; the bridge on board his ship knew his exact situation, including the identity of their future guest. “They have our co-ordinates, they can use the pad to connect to our exact location when they’re closer to Tyrakos...Yes, I’d say we’ve been successful.” He looked up at Ben, frowning. “What’s happening out there?”

Ben pushed himself off the doorframe to stand up straight, keeping his eyes fixed outside the linkup station. His hand had gone down to rest lightly on his blaster, thumb brushing it as it had brushed Hux’s arm earlier by force of habit. The general’s eyes flicked down, noting the movement before looking back at Ben’s face.

“Remember how I said we should be concerned about friends of friends of friends knowing about you? You’re even more popular than I guessed.” He was quiet for a minute, concentrating. “Must be the hair.”

“Speak plainly,” Hux said lowly, picking up the pad and putting it in one of his greatcoat pockets, then his own hand went to his blaster. “How many are there? Where are they coming from?”

“From what I can tell, there’s a group waiting in the hall we exited, then another around toward the landing pad to the north. Stragglers…” Ben closed his eyes for a second, mouth opening just slightly as he extended the Force to try to more accurately locate everyone who wanted to kill them this afternoon. “I don’t know if they’re looking for you, or just looking in general.” He opened his eyes and blinked again to clear them, stepping back into the station for better cover. “The group by the landing pad is the largest. Six?”

“The _Javelin_ is coming ahead of the _Finalizer_ , but it will be a couple hours,” Hux said quickly, going to stand near Ben and looking over his shoulder to see out the small porthole of the station as if it could show him the sentients coming for the two of them. “They don’t know that we’ve called the Order. As far as their knowledge stretches, you have sent a message to your contacts.” He took a deep breath, thinking fast. Ben made a noise that was slightly negative.

“Unfortunately, there are any number of people they could think I’ve made contact with. These people just want you dead on principle. Some of them might…” He paused and pulled his blaster out of its holster. “Want me dead for personal reasons.”

Hux made a frustrated noise. There were too many variables and not enough information. He took another deep breath, the small jump from the cig making it hard to concentrate on what exactly he could do in this situation.

“How strong is this station?” he asked after a few seconds. “Does anyone have eyes on us right now?”

“At this exact moment we’re safe unless someone decides to blow up the station. I wouldn’t put it past anyone, really, but we do have a little bit.” The smuggler turned his head to look around the small room, not really liking the structural integrity he was faced with. “I wouldn’t say this place would hold up to too many blaster rounds. Are your pals tuned into this console or your holopad?”

“The pad; they have the Tyrakos Station co-ordinates and will track us once they’re closer.” He made a noise, gesturing. “We should go to the next link up station; they will assume we’ve made for a ship, and if anyone is smart enough to check the station, you should just...trick them away.”

The expression Ben turned on Hux was stony and incredulous at the same time.

“Trick them away?” He held Hux’s eyes for another count, then nodded. “It works as well as anything else, I guess, as far as plans go.”

“We have no backup, no shelter, no ship, and it’s not as if anyone is taking kindly to our presence,” Hux gestured, glancing around the station. He picked up the cuffs and put them in another pocket, frowning. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Ben muttered to himself as he led the way out of the small station, keeping all his senses sharp. A single well-aimed blast and one of them was dead. But for now, at least, it seemed that everyone was holding position. “Come on, to the far one.”

“If you’ve got a better plan now is not the time,” Hux muttered, walking fast and pulling the door closed behind himself. He looked around the port area with his own blaster drawn, but so far the alley seemed to be deserted. “If you sense something, tell me before we start getting shot.”

“It doesn’t necessarily work like that,” Ben replied quietly, voice a little testy. “You know, sweet cheeks, I’ve got to hand it to you. When you said they weren’t friendly, I was imagining things like not getting a seat at the diner, nasty looks like you smelled weird (which you don’t, by the way, you smell like my soap, which is sort of nice), that kind of thing. Maybe one or two hotshots I’d have to knock down. I didn’t expect this. You are something special, Arrik Hux.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered by your newfound regard, or disgusted that you so tragically underestimated my reputation,” Hux muttered, pushing into the final linkup station and turning so that he and Ben were both inside to the left of the door. He kept the door open, then stepped back with his blaster up and his back to Ben. “At least tell me if anyone is approaching. I didn’t see eyes on the roofs, and I couldn’t hear any kind of speeder...”

Hux stopped, holding his breath as fate seemed determined to prove him wrong. The whizz of some kind of landspeeder was unmistakable as it dropped from a roof above them, zooming down the alley and skidding to a stop at the station door where the bodies still lay piled in front of their former holdout.

Ben snorted quietly, turning his head. His mouth was by the general’s ear so his whisper could be heard.

“There’s a speeder.”

“Thanks for the kriffing warning, Jedi,” Hux sneered, adjusting his grip on the blaster with his eyes narrowed at the open door. He turned his head slightly, trying to listen to the voices as they yelled at the empty station. “Too bad we didn’t have time to make a bomb.”

“Yeah, that definitely would have livened this up a bit,” Ben replied, rolling his eyes. “I like your subtle touch in situations where you’re seriously outmanned and outgunned. Also, not a Jedi.” He took a deep breath and leaned past the general to peek out the door. “Mm...not good. They’ll smell we aren’t in there and then track us here.”

Hux holstered his blaster and pulled out his pad, frowning. He quickly opened up a program, adjusting it fast. “Did you recognize a ship on the landing docks?”

“By type or by actual ship?” Ben asked, leaning back again. He suddenly looked to the window on the far side, then grabbed onto Hux’s shoulder and yanked him down onto the ground as the window exploded inward.

Hux turned as he was pulled down, slamming his shoulder against the wall. “A name, a ship number, anything,” he hissed as he grimaced in pain, trying to stay quiet and to indicate that Ben shouldn't start shooting.

“We didn’t exactly stroll past them at a leisurely pace,” Ben replied quickly, shaking his head to get some of the glass out of his hair. He could feel the sting of several places the shards had managed to find skin. “The one with the blue fins…” He closed his eyes as he pictured the side of the ship.There were three uneven lines, then the wave pattern...Eyes still shut, he grabbed onto Hux and pulled him down again, putting his body over the other man’s when the skylight exploded. Setting his jaw to keep from making any noise, Hux was pushed onto his back as the roof shattered. “It was 58 dash 9000 dot 734.”

The general shifted away from Ben to quickly plug in the numbers, his pad on the ground in front of him.

“Class?”

“She’s one of those really old pre-Empire Corellian ships, I don’t remember. Like the Drunk Dancer. A freighter.” Ben knelt up, blaster ready. “What are you planning?” He’d been raised on stories of old smuggling ships and sometimes forgot that not everyone had had similar bedtime stories.

“Likely, a G-9 Rigger,” Hux muttered, putting it into the pad and sending the program to execute. Every comm, including the station the two of them were currently huddled in, burst to life. There was a dramatic cackling, then a slightly feminine, robotic voice repeated ‘emergency, emergency’ in a tone that did not sound particularly pressing.

“A ship has been stolen off the eastern lot-” the voice read over the notification, a small flashing notice saying that the report had come from the Tyrakos Rangers, the local police-cum-militia organization that enacted some semblance of order on the planet, at least as far as they were bribed to do so. “Ship registration, 58-9000.734, freighter class, G-9 Rigger, reported stolen fifteen minutes ago. The captain has offered a substantial reward for the return of the ship intact. Repeat message-” The screen fizzled and then started flashing ‘emergency’ before the robotic voice went through the false report again, delivering the message across any active comms in the area.

Ben wouldn’t say it aloud, but the angle of his eyebrows showed he was impressed. He shifted slightly, keeping his blaster in position. The broken glass made grinding noises under the soles of his boots, but otherwise he was completely quiet. He looked over at Hux, nodding slowly as the speeder revved up and moved away from them, predictably toward the eastern lot.

Hux shifted slightly, turning to create a timer on the link that set it expire after five minutes.

Ben waited an extra minute before standing up, leaving Hux down on the floor as he walked over to the door. He moved slowly and his eyes widened when he was suddenly face to face with one person who hadn’t left for the landing pad immediately. How the hells hadn’t he realized he was right there? Inside the bunker, Hux took a deep breath before slowly shifting up to a sitting position, following Ben’s movements carefully.

“Drop your blaster, friend, and tell that ginger miscreant to come out with his hands up on his head,” the near-human said in a terse voice.

“There’s no one here but me,” Ben said in a mellow voice. “And I’m not even who you’re looking for. You’re looking for someone over in the east lot.”

“Don’t try that bantha shit with me, Solo. There’s not a lot like you left, nor a lot like me, but that don’t mean my people will fall for that any more than they did before the wars.” The bounty hunter didn’t even bother specifying which wars he meant. He just insistently poked the barrel of his blaster against Ben’s chest. “Send him out, and I’ll let you go crying back to your daddy.” He chortled unpleasantly through the mask that covered the lower half of his face. “Then he can send you crying back to your mama.”

Hux stood carefully, his back to the wall to the side of the door. He drew his blaster, face turned towards Ben’s as he watched his profile, examining the changes that were occurring.

Ben’s body seemed to tense and relax at the same time, the line of his jaw standing out hard against his skin while all the muscles in his torso were taut as though he was expecting a blow, then his shoulders settled back. His eyes burned into the man standing in front of him, who, disquieted by the strange expression, chuckled slightly nervously.

“Oh, what? Don’t know what to s-” The man gagged suddenly, clutching at his throat and stumbling back as Ben brought his hand up. His blaster was forgotten in its holster; all his concentration was focused on the man choking in front of him. The bounty hunter tried to bring his blaster up to shoot at him; with a sharp gesture of his other hand, Ben flung it away from him.

“It seems you got yourself a little tongue-tied, Anto,” Ben said in a low, calm voice, though it showed the edge of something much wilder. “I can’t make out a single word.”

Hux’s eyes were wide as he watched Ben channel his power in a way that was so brutal and effective. He had never seen this sort of thing done before obviously, although he had heard stories and had closely watched holovids of the late Emperor and his right hand man, Lord Vader. With these things in mind, Hux was loathe to let such an opportunity desert him.

He stepped out from behind the wall, looking over Ben’s shoulder as the smuggler held Anto up by force of will alone. Hux took a sharp breath and swallowed his excitement, then turned his head slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off the man struggling to breathe not five feet in front of Ben’s hand.

“Finish it,” Hux said quietly, almost encouraging. “Do it now.”

No one had ever said that aloud to him before. The only voice that ever urged him to go further, to go too far, had been in his head, a voice that echoed and faded away beneath the strength of his uncle’s training. It sounded different, to hear it like this. Out loud it was impossible to ignore. For once, another voice felt stronger.

Ben set his jaw and the fingers of his right hand clenched harder, controlling the power he had wrapped around the bounty hunter’s throat. He felt the moment Anto snapped, felt his death travel back along that line to his hand and up his wrist. He pulled his arm back and the other man fell on the packed, dry ground. Ben took a shuddering breath and stepped back, arm held to his chest as though he’d been injured. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d killed. But it was the first time he’d killed like that. It was back; the darkness swirled up from the nowhere place it hid inside of him. Because it was never gone.

Behind him, the General’s eyes widened, and he could have sworn in that moment he had heard a sound more beautiful than his own mother’s voice. He swallowed and forced himself to breathe out, his eyes fixed on the bounty hunter lying dead on the ground. Kriffing beautiful.

“He would have...he would have killed us both,” Ben rationalized in a hushed, breathless voice.

Hux frowned, confused by the change. He made a noise, his shoulder brushing against Ben’s as he walked past him.

“If you hadn’t done it, I would have,” he said dismissively, flicking the bounty hunter’s wrist upwards with a kick from his boot. He glanced around, eyes narrowed, before looking back to Ben and holding his gaze for a second.

“Good work,” he said, nodding once before looking out in the alley again. “We need to find someplace safe for the next two hours. You know this place better than I do.”

Ben nodded, still looking at the crumpled body on the ground.

“Safest place is a place with fewer eyes. Madame Zingot’s Palace.” He swallowed and looked up to meet Hux’s eyes again. “No one’s going to look for you there.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s a brothel,” Hux almost pleaded, eyebrows up. “I’m hardly dressed for it.”

The general’s earnest expression forced a laugh out of Ben, and he felt like he could take an actual deep breath.

“She would never ever call it a brothel.” He punched Hux’s shoulder then leaned down to grab Anto’s blaster so he could fill both holsters again. “Let’s head over before we find some more of your adoring fans.”

“Fantastic,” Hux muttered, ignoring the companionable hit. His ego was still smarting from the smack to the back of the head from earlier. He looked Ben over more carefully, noting the small dots of blood through the thinner parts of his shirt. Hux’s greatcoat protected him from most of the glass, but where he’d landed on his bad shoulder definitely ached.

There was another pain, slim but insistent. Frowning, he put his hand on his cheek. His fingers brushed against a razor-thin cut across his cheekbone. He pulled the back of his hand across his cheek, annoyed that he would have a bloody face when Phasma disembarked.

Finally he sighed and shook his head, resigning himself to further indignities before he would be taken off this kriffing planet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of child abuse, mild to light torture, choking. also hux tries to flirt with ben and cannot do it, even to save his life.

“Do you want the cuffs on for appearances or will that send the wrong message at this point?” Hux asked in a tone that was far too conversational.

“If it was up to me, we’d ditch that coat somewhere and find you something that didn’t instantly paint a big target on your chest, so really, the cuffs are just gravy at this point. I don’t think they’ll do much but make it harder for you to fight for the half second until I save your ass.” Ben looked over and noticed the smear of blood on Hux’s pale cheek. It looked stark against his skin, like it had been painted on for effect. The injured general, martyr for his cause. They could use that in one of the prop campaigns.

Hux made a noise. “Then find something else, my uniform won’t help me blend in either,” he said, walking next to Ben, keeping his hand on his blaster.

“I thought you don’t dress up,” Ben teased, looking over at the general again. “Are you sure that uniform comes off?”

“Obviously when my life depends on it, I’m willing to get out of uniform,” Hux muttered, frowning. “Where is this den of iniquity anyway?” He was surveying the area as they walked, glad that for the moment they were alone, even along this row of shops.

“Down back here, away from the main strip. It gets a little rowdy around the bar at night, and Madame Zingot likes to keep her place...classy.” Ben smiled and shrugged. “I’ll get you in and settled, then hunt up something for you to wear.”

“Is that smuggler-speak for ‘find you a nice closet while I get laid by three different species of sentients?’” Hux asked, eyebrows up.

“Would you prefer we find you some clothes first and then I sit tight with you so you don’t get scared?” Ben’s eyebrows were level with Hux’s.

“I prefer that you not get distracted while we’re being hunted by half the planet,” Hux muttered, rolling his eyes and looking away from Ben. “Now is not an ideal time to let your guard down.”

“My guard’s never down, don’t worry.” Ben shrugged then tapped the back of his hand against Hux’s arm. “Here, clothes reseller. Let’s see what we can get on your scrawny body. Coat off, drop it outside. Jacket off, over your arm. Throw the hat away. As far as it’ll go. Because it’s horrible.”

Hux almost made angry retort, but he knew that Ben was right. He pulled the datapad, cigarette pack, and cuffs out of the greatcoat pockets, passing them over to Ben.

“Hold these,” he ordered, taking off the coat and folding it over his arm.He was strangely annoyed that out of all the things he had to get rid of, his woolen greatcoat was just getting discarded. He passed it over to Ben as well. “It can’t go on the ground; it has my rank on it. Too recognizable to just leave it out.”

He started to undo his jacket, unfastening the dark grey uniform quickly and sliding it off his shoulders and back to exposing his pale, freckled arms which had more definition and more scars than most people would assume he possessed. The dark grey undershirt was plain and nondescript, his pants held up by military suspenders. Everything but the coat and jacket was unadorned by any rank or symbol. Ben watched him undress, hands full. He looked him over as he had earlier, not missing anything about him, from potential hidden pockets to a cluster of scars on his right arm. He handed back the items Hux had removed from the coat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” As he spoke, he ripped the First Order patch from the coat’s sleeve and shoved it into his bag, then walked over to stuff the grey coat into one of the empty barrels by the side of the building. Hux narrowed his eyes but didn’t protest.

Ben glanced over at the general once, then pulled the Force-fire up into his hand. “Such a useful trick, huh?” With a gesture not unlike flicking his fingers, he sent the fire to catch the coat’s fibers. “No more coat.”

Although deeply annoyed at the loss of his coat, Hux knew that he’d be able to replace it on the _Finalizer_. It couldn’t be seen as anything important. He took a deep breath and quickly put the pad and cigarettes into his remaining pockets, passing the cuffs back over to Ben to keep.

Ben added the cuffs to his shoulder bad, then looked over at the shop and nodded. “Come on, let’s get inside before you get a sunburn. When’s the last time you had bare arms?”

“Three years ago I took a two-day leave on Veruna,” Hux said, rolling his shoulders. He had taken that vacation after he had established the Order’s presence in another, larger system that had allowed them to set up additional trooper training camps and shipping stations that provided a fantastic tariff revenue paying for a Star Destroyer every twenty-eight months. “I even went swimming.”

“Swimming, huh? How many minutes of self-flagellation did all that fun earn you?” Ben walked with him into the dingy shop with its piles of clothes. There were bins that seemed to approximate size, some for number of arms, some with arbitrary gender ideals from various systems. All of the clothes were worn, and some still had holes and blood stains from their previous owners’ demises.

Walking into the shop Hux’s eyes narrowed. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever scrap of pride he had left, finally relinquishing control of his appearance. He was already out of uniform, it couldn’t get much worse. He went to a bin and pushed aside a bloodied shirt.

Ben reached onto one of the shelves and picked up a diaphanous purple robe. “How about this?”

Looking over at Ben, Hux suddenly realized that it could get quite a lot worse.

“No.”

Ben laughed and folded the robe rather neatly before putting it back onto the shelf. He’d found a scarf in here once that he loved. _He still had it_ , he thought, though he wasn’t sure where. At least he couldn’t remember it being actually destroyed or lost.

“You’re right. You’d glow like a lamp through that.” The smuggler moved over to a bin of jackets and started going through them.

Hux made a noise, looking through the shirts and giving up when he couldn’t find one that wasn’t torn or stained with some kind of unidentifiable fluid. He trailed past Ben, going to a rack of clothing and flipping through the jackets. He found a light white-grey jacket made of some kind of leather, panelled and structured in a fashion that was much better made than most of the clothing tossed into the bins. He pulled it off the rack and tried it on, finding it slightly loose on the shoulders but not in a way that impeded him.

He glanced at his reflection and frowned, pushing his hair directly back and effectively mussing the distinctive part. Ben watched him, then handed him a scarf he’d found while daydreaming about his own.

“Here. Around your neck, and you can pull it up over your nose and mouth if you have to.” He shrugged. “Cheap mask.”

The scarf, thankfully, didn’t smell too badly, and was large enough that it didn’t make Hux look dainty. He knew that it was rather facetious to be worried about his appearance, but he was still a general in the First Order, and when his ship came he couldn’t look like a kriffing pirate.

He sighed, resigned, and nodded at Ben.

“This will do.”

Ben stepped back to look him over. With the cut on his cheek and the slim-fitting white jacket, he looked like some kid on a crew who was brand new to the smuggling game. He almost wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair.

“It’s not bad. I mean, I wouldn’t figure you for some hotshot general wearing that. I mean, white? What military man is going to put himself in white?” Ben grinned at him, hands on his hips. “Come on, let me haggle your jacket for that one.” He reached over and snagged Hux’s elbow, dragging him toward the sentient who owned the shop.

Hux was about to respond, to teach this man the history of the Grand Admirals, the cadre of twelve men who were the executors of the will of the Emperor, who acted in his name but were the power behind the presence. That it was only the New Republic’s good luck that the Admirals had been separated before the battle of Yanvin or they would have destroyed the fledgling coup and restored the Empire faster than the Rebels could have refuelled their X-wings.

Instead he said nothing, letting Ben pull him around in a way that wasn’t entirely uncompanionable. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept his mouth shut as they approached the counter.

Ben tossed the First Order uniform jacket onto the gouged piece of wood that served as a counter and smiled at the proprietor. The female Weequay stared at the jacket for a few seconds before looking back up at Ben, looking unimpressed even by her species’ standards.

“Hey, my boy’s taken a shining to the white jacket. I know, I know. We yanked this one off some wackjob ‘First Order’ officer, and he’s been wearing it for a week now, but it’s too shiny for him.” The smuggler rolled his eyes and smiled at Hux fondly before looking back to the store owner. “It’s a fair trade, I’d say. You know someone’s going to pay good money for the doors that jacket will open for them.”

It took almost all of Hux’s willpower not to snap at Ben, and he managed to turn his expression into something resembling mild disinterest. The woman took the jacket and laid it flat on the counter, smoothing it down. She made a noise and looked up at Ben, gesturing and leaning over to get closer to the smuggler.

“The trade will be fair if you throw on another forty credits. The jacket’s almost useless without the rest of the uniform. It’s a novelty piece.”

“This isn’t some costume party jacket. I...well, hold on.” He looked over at Hux and in that instant Arrik knew he was fucked. “Come on, hon, you don’t really need to hold onto the pants too, do you?”

“I suppose not,” the general managed after only a second’s hesitation, voice testy. “Give me a minute.”

The woman nodded. “Pants and jacket, fair trade for your new outfit.”

Hux smiled, barely, although he was thinking murderous thoughts. “Great.” He turned on his heel and went back into the shop, trying to find a bin with pants that weren’t soiled and failing. He took off the leather jacket and pulled his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them hang by his legs as he continued to search for a clean pair that would fit him without making him look too ridiculous.

Ben smiled at the Weequay owner and shrugged. She responded with a pained look, sighing through her nose.

“He’s picky. I don’t know why I encourage it.” He glanced over in the direction Hux had walked off before disappearing between racks and bins of clothing.

Hux eventually found a pair of dark green pants that looked like they could have been fatigues at one point. They were patched at the knees and reinforced in the crotch, but they were stain-free and had been well-kept. He changed behind a rack of clothing, relieved that he had found a pair that fit and didn’t smell. He sighed at his reflection in a cracked piece of mirror as he pulled the white jacket back on. Before making his way back he grabbed a leather belt, putting it on as he walked towards the counter. He pulled out his cigarettes and put the uniform pants on the counter, sliding a hand, fingers spread, along Ben’s lower back and pressing against him.

“I’m ready.”

Ben grinned over at him. “And you look a dream.” His smile carried over to the shop owner when he turned to her again. “Pleasure doing business, enjoy the uniform.” He winked and saluted, then quickly propelled Hux towards the door.

Hux tried to smile, tried to do something that would give him the upper hand. He was a master tactician, a strategic mind equal to none his age, but he couldn’t flirt with Ben Solo even if it was only an attempt to snap the feet out from underneath the man. He took a deep breath, annoyed and furious with himself that he couldn’t even make a stupid lie look believable, and indignantly let the smuggler pull him out the door.

Ben, on the other hand, was highly amused by the general’s awkward and obviously clunky silence. He laughed as they turned down another winding alley headed for Madame Zingot’s. He reached over and pulled the scarf up over Hux’s mouth.

“That was smooth. So smooth. I mean, I would have believed you a hundred percent,” he laughed as they walked. “I mean, I thought that you, as an entertainer, would have no problem with all of that.”

Hux narrowed his eyes and stiffened his shoulders. He so badly wanted to hit Ben, but he didn’t make a move to do so at all, adjusting the scarf around his nose and mouth.

“Be quiet or I’ll ruin your chances at getting laid.”

“Is that any way to talk to the man who’d do anything for you?” Ben laughed again, loudly, as he ducked between two leaning buildings, then turned into another door halfway down the row. “Here we go. Keep your possessions in hand. The girls and boys who play here are crafty.”

Hux made a noise, pulling the pad out of his pants pocket and putting it on the inside of his jacket, managing to secure it under his arm in something that must have been intended as a kind of holster. The cigarettes and his blaster he could afford to lose.

Ben pushed aside a curtain and led Hux into a low-ceilinged round room with red light limning every cushioned surface.

Ducking into the room, the general was struck by how...cliche it all was. Red lights and soft surfaces, incense in the corner-- it was as nondescript and common as any other brothel in any other system. Ben strolled in as though he was a frequent guest, blowing a kiss to a Twi’lek girl who was ignoring most of the room and tapping through a datapad to go through the rotation’s earnings.

As they walked further in, Hux felt, very suddenly and very keenly, that he had made a threat he absolutely could not keep. He kept up with Ben, staying just a step behind his right side. He wasn’t touching him, but he was staying very close.

“Hey, Gogo, is Madame around?” Ben walked over to the girl, who tossed her head as though he was just one more annoyance in a long string of them. Her lekku moved slowly behind her as she looked back to him.

“Did she ask to see you, Skywalker? No? Maybe you should go.” She shook her head, looking back down to her pad.

Hux made a noise, putting his hand on Ben’s back again and pressing him forward. Even with him out of his uniform they were exposed. Anyone who had been in the first way station knew that Ben Solo (Organa? Skywalker?) had brought in General Arrik Hux of the First Order. He hoped that Ben would figure out what his gesture meant. He was uncomfortable, knowing that his annoyance and nerves were heightened by the fact that his figurative armor had been shed. And now he was in a place that he would never consider a legitimate place to hide. Ben looked back to meet Hux’s eyes for a second, then he smiled at the madame’s assistant again.

“She’s always happy to see me.”

“Not last time.”

“Last time was...a unique circumstance.” Ben smiled brightly, but Gogo looked around him to give Hux a hard look before sitting back again.

“This looks like the same circumstance. Go away.” With another head toss, she mentally dismissed them.

“Okay, maybe a little like that. Come on, Gogo, I need a room.” He leaned forward and she leaned back, then she put her pale blue hand on his chest and shoved.

“Rooms are for customers and employees. Not Jedi and their secrets. Go away!” The Twi’lek physically pushed him out of the way when a tall near-human came up to settle his payment.

“Gogo, we’ve been over this twenty times,” Ben said insistently, speaking around the customer. “I’m not a Je-”

“Go away!” she growled, then smiled at the customer after he’d paid. “You come back soon!” She glowered at Ben and Hux a second later. “Madame has no time for you. She is important. Skywalkers just think they’re important.”

Ben sighed, digging through his bag. “Do you see these credits, Gogo? These are for you if you find me a room without an employee in it. It’s just a few hours. Madame doesn’t even have to know.” Gogo watched him steadily and finally the smuggler sighed and reached into his bag for a few more before dropping them into her waiting hand. The Twi’lek nodded and stood up, gesturing impatiently for them to follow her. Ben took Hux’s elbow again, pulling him along behind her.

Throughout this exchange Hux said nothing. He could feel his face getting more and more red as Ben wheedled the Twi’lek into a room, which she would presume would be for them. Hux wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed or more furious. He didn’t pull away as Ben led them through the brothel, and Hux tried his best to ignore the sounds and smells of any various sentients who were obviously very engaged in what they were doing as the three of them passed through the halls of Zingot’s whore house.

The room was at the top of the house, and it was strangely cool compared to the rest of the building. It was shaded by the taller leaning building that rose up beside the Palace’s structure. The room itself had none of the usual brothel trappings; it was neat and spare, with a large locked crate in one corner, a wall hanging on only one wall by the bed, and a desk.

Gogo looked between them when they were inside. Hux finally twisted his face to the side, pulling the scarf down and taking a deep breath as he looked around, getting his bearings.

“This is my room. You can only touch the bed. If you touch anything else, I will break all your fingers. Do you hear me, Skywalker?” Her tone didn’t change when Ben smiled and nodded sincerely. “You kiss, you fuck, you leave. If you open the crate, I will know.” She pointed at Hux. “Are you Jedi?”

“No, ma’am,” Hux said, shaking his head. She looked unconvinced.

“What are you then? Eh? Tell me now.” Gogo put her hands on her hips.

Hux swallowed, and he knew, somehow, that he should step a little closer to Ben. Their heights were almost equal, and he knew that the two of them topping six feet made them slightly intimidating. However, it was apparent that the Twi’lek girl was rarely intimidated. He made a noise, glancing at Ben and then back to Gogo, frowning slightly.

“I’m a soldier,” he said, electing for one of the oldest, simplest professions to describe his character. It was the truth, honest to whatever god was native to Tyrakos, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to pull any sort of deception from him. He shifted, putting his hand on Ben’s back again, fingers spread against the curve there. It took a lot of his training for Ben not to look incredibly surprised when Hux touched him again, by choice.

Gogo nodded and rolled her eyes expressively, then she walked back to the door.

“A soldier, a soldier. There are always soldiers here. Go on then, peacekeeper and soldier. Go on. Just leave the sheets. I will take care of them. You’ll make a bigger mess.” Her lekku bobbed behind her as she walked out.

“Thanks, Gogo!” Ben called after her. “I owe you!”

“You owe me forever, Skywalker,” she growled, then closed the door behind herself. Hux took a deep breath as she left, standing still for another full second before dropping his hand and stepping away from Ben to run his hands through his hair.

“See? Safe and sound until your ship makes it.” Ben shrugged and walked over to flop down onto the bed.

Hux took a deep breath, shaking his head. He knew that, logically, this was a very good place for them to hide out. He nodded, pulling out his pad and checking the time. He was chagrined to see that they had at least an hour and a half, if not a little longer. And that was if the _Finalizer_ experienced no delays and if the _Javelin_ operated at its full speed.

He pulled his scarf off, folding it and placing it on the crate before shrugging out of his jacket and putting it in the same place. Ben looked over at him and smiled.

“This has been pretty exciting, huh?”

Making a noise, Hux glanced at Ben as he walked over to look through the window. Finding the view wanting, he turned back to the bed, slowly walking around the small room.

“Is this the sort of thing you do for fun?” he asked, going to the door and leaning into it so he could peek through the small cracks before taking another step back. Ben laughed and leaned his head back.

“Sometimes. It depends on what else is going on. I bet you’ll get the hang of it.” He raised both arms above his head to stretch.

Hux narrowed his eyes, glaring at Ben.

“How can you relax? We have no guarantee of safety here. Now we’re even penned in; the window drops into a dead end.” He shook his head, frowning. “We’re stuck.”

“When you finally get a message from your shuttle, we will walk down those stairs and out to meet it. What do you think is going to happen? No one is going to come looking for us here.” Ben shrugged against the mattress.

Hux made a noise, walking to the bed. “You are making a lot of assumptions for a man who knows the receptionist by name and even has a reputation for frequenting this...place.”

“Yeah...I hide out here sometimes. You should try Gogo’s cooking. It’s awful, but it’s always an adventure.” The smuggler crossed his arms underneath his head. “Madame happens to remember me as a ten-year-old, so I get away with a lot.”

“Why were you here as a ten year old?” Hux asked incredulously, staring at Ben.

“I wasn’t by myself! My dad was with me, obviously.” Ben shrugged and sat up. “You make it sound like I was much more precocious than I was.”

Hux was still watching Ben like he had sprouted a second head. “Why would your father take you to a brothel?”

“Because he’d been invited, and you don’t turn down Madame’s invitations.” Ben shrugged and looked around. “We should call down for drinks…”

The general made another disgusted noise, sitting on the side of the bed and running his hand through his hair again. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“Of drinks?” Ben leaned back against the wall, though he was careful to keep his boots off the blankets. They were worn, and he was pretty sure Gogo would kill him for one heel mark. “Well, they help you relax, take care of that parched feeling in your throat…”

Hux made a noise, tucking his hair back as he tried to maintain a semblance of order about himself. He rolled his shoulders forward, staring at the door and leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Ordering drinks means someone will have to get them.”

Ben smiled and leaned forward as well, dropping his voice conspiratorially.

“Are you worried I’ll head down to get you your fruity drink with an umbrella and three kol on a skewer and on the way back I’ll just fall into bed with someone and forget you’re up here waiting for me?” He nudged his elbow against Hux’s arm, laughing under his breath.

Hux didn’t move, still focused on the doorway. “I’m more concerned someone will recognize you,” he muttered, lacing his hands together between his knees. Ben made a noise and leaned back to brace his shoulders against the wall again.

“I can call down and just have Gogo bring something up. She already knows we’re here, so there’s no big reveal. Soldier.” He smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

“And do you think the fact that we are still clothed and not mid-coitus won’t escape her notice?”

Without opening his eyes, Ben gestured descriptively toward his legs.

“Then you can put your head down when she knocks on the door. I’ve got a comfy lap.”

“No,” Hux said, almost growling.

“You can at least take your shirt off and look like you want to be here.” Ben opened one eye and squinted over at the general. “Smiling would go an awful long way.”

“Instead of debating how to best fool a nice Twi’lek girl, let’s just agree to not order drinks.”

“First thing, I could really use one after all the running and shooting and watching your internal struggle whether or not you can change out of your uniform. Second, Gogo is not a nice girl, and if you think that, you’re even more simple than I thought you were.” Ben took a deep breath and sat up. “What do you drink anyhow?”

“I don’t want a drink, Ben.”

“With a planet this dry, you should drink some water anyway.” Ben looked over at the general. “What’s the matter? You seem very...still all of a sudden. Your ship’s coming to pick you up. I thought you’d brighten up.”

“We’re still backed into a corner, with minimal weapons, no cover, and believe it or not, that emergency trick won’t work a second time.”

“Which trick? Pretending you’re my boyfriend?” Ben stood up and stretched, then walked over to look out the window. “That only won’t work if you keep it up with that face.”

Hux made another noise. “Rather, we run much less of a risk if we just sit here, stay quiet, and act like we’re waiting on a transport off-planet, rather than devising ways to trick people.”

Ben looked over at him with an extremely disappointed expression, then walked over to crouch in front of the large packing crate in the far corner of the room, putting Hux’s things to the side. Humming to himself, he started to mess with one of the three locks on the front of it.

“So...what are you going to do for two hours?” he asked without looking over at the other man.

“I’m going to wait,” Hux said simply, glancing over at Ben. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Ben asked after the first lock had popped. “What are you going to do while you wait? Waiting isn’t an all or nothing situation.”

“Stop messing with her things,” Hux said, managing to sound appropriately chastising for a man who less than an hour earlier had no problem killing four men for simply being in his way. “She’s doing you a kriffing favor and you can’t keep your hands off the one thing she asked you not to touch?”

Ben looked over at Hux as though that was the dumbest thing he’d ever said. The second lock snapped open in his hands and he dropped it onto the floor.

“You’re kidding me, right? You think she doesn’t want me to get in here?” He snorted and shook his head, looking down to work on the final lock.

“I tend to think that most people say what they mean,” Hux said, glaring over his shoulder at Ben. “Leave it be.”

Ben frowned as he worked, pausing once to push his hair behind his ear. A small piece of glass fell out of it when he did.

“Didn’t you see the way she flicked her left lek? Her tchun, excuse me.” The smuggler held his tongue between his teeth as he fiddled with the back of the lock.

“You are making excuses for yourself,” Hux muttered, turning a little more to get a better look at what Ben was doing. “She’s doing you a favor.”

“She doesn’t do any favors for anyone.” Ben made a satisfied noise when the third lock gave way. He pushed open the top of the crate and glanced over the contents, then dug on the left side. “Gogo is very adept at getting things. Information, mainly.” He was quiet for a minute, then finally pulled up a little leather sleeve. Hux eyebrows snapped down, his back straightening immediately. “I knew she’d have it quickly.”

Turning in his crouch, Ben held the packet up for Hux to see.

“This goes to the King Janos’tar on Kroth. It’s evidence of...something he’s been paranoid about for awhile.” He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. “Did you think I picked Tyrakos off the top of my head? Gogo called me.”

Hux frowned deeply, shaking his head. “Evidence of what?”

“I don’t know. I’m a smuggler, not a spy.” Ben resettled the crate’s contents, picking up a very delicate robe and carefully folding it before laying it over the top.

“For a smuggler, you seem to have a lot to do with the information trade,” Hux muttered, going over to Ben and holding his hand out. “Let me see it.”

Ben frowned and shook his head, sliding the leather envelope into his bag before he went back to making sure the crate’s contents weren’t disheveled. If there was a wrinkle in a single item, that’s when she’d kill him.

“You don’t need it. What good is it to you, general?” He looked up at him and smiled. “And you didn’t pay for it.”

“My reasons are the same as a king’s,” Hux said softly, still frowning. “Let me see it.”

“But you’re not a king,” Ben replied, tilting his head slightly. “And you didn’t pay for it. Like I said.”

Hux set his jaw, anger flaring up again. ”Would you like me to pay for it?”

Ben laughed and sat back on his feet. The muscles furiously rippling in Hux’s jaw were pretty impressive, truth be told.

“What are you willing to pay?” he asked archly, tone smooth. His negotiation voice.

“Don’t toy with me. I have no idea what’s in there,” Hux said, glaring. “Name a fair price.”

“Mm...nah.” Ben shook his head, going back to fixing the last few items in the crate before closing the top. “I think I’d rather deal with the king.”

Hux stayed still, frowning. “I’m asking nicely.”

“And I’m saying no, thank you.” Ben neatly reattached the three locks to the crate before looking up at Hux with a coy smile. “My mother taught me impeccable manners.”

Making a disgusted noise, Hux turned away from Ben, pacing across the room before taking another deep breath and sitting at the foot of the bed. In truth he probably already knew what was in that packet, but haggling with Ben wasn't going to get him anything but a headache.

Another round won, Ben thought as he stood up and brushed off his dusty knees. The general was incredibly easy to wind up, but it consistently disappointed the smuggler to see him back down right before things got interesting. He walked over to sit on the bed as well, glancing over at Hux.

“So, we’ll need to stop off so I can drop this with old Janos’tar and get my payment, then I can bring Gogo her portion, then we can head off to wherever so I can meet your ‘Supreme Leader.’” He raised his eyebrows. “Sound good?”

Hux couldn’t even keep the annoyance out of his sigh.

“I’m not sure that we can facilitate that transaction,” he said, voice measured. “But you can hold onto the information, and deliver it at a different time.”

“Yeah, I can just drop it off with Chewie when he picks me up after.” Ben shrugged casually. “The king’s not expecting it this quickly anyway. And my dad doesn’t even know about this one at all.” He looked over at Hux. “Your dad kicked the bucket a while ago, huh? After the war.”

Hux had resumed staring at the doorway, but when Ben mentioned his father his shoulders shifted forwards slightly, and he felt extreme amounts of disgust, anger and no small bit of satisfaction. His heart rate spiked a few ticks, adrenaline and hatred. It was a strange mixture of emotions, but Hux’s face remained absolutely still.

“That’s right.”

Unfortunately for the general, Ben knew better than to just watch faces.

“How old were you?” he asked mildly, but with genuine curiosity. There was obviously nothing painful for Hux about the loss. The strongest things Ben felt from him, pushed out with that equivalence to mental screaming that he’d tried to explain earlier, were anger and pride. Those were not emotions that usually accompanied the death of a parent, he guessed.

“Not a child,” Hux’s tone was clipped, and he had managed to bring his emotions in check. He knew, regretted knowing, that Ben would probably be able to see right through his polished mask.

“Your mother must have been pretty torn up.” He left the comment there, without adding a question to it. He was feeling at the periphery of the general’s consciousness, not quite probing into his mind (that wasn’t allowed without good cause, obviously), but there was no moral quandary for him with leaving himself open to Force-sensed perceptions. Wasn’t that natural? From his uncle’s stories, it sounded like Master Yoda and his own namesake had done it all the time.

The general knew, truly knew, what Ben was doing and he decided that the risk was worth it. It might be better to let the man know trivial information about himself in return for something like trust.

“She had died some time before then.”

“Oh. So already it had been just you and your dad.” Ben was quiet for a few seconds. “What was he like? I know what he did; I’ve had all those history lessons. But what was he like, with you? I mean, obviously he got you into...this.”

“At that point I didn’t have much contact with him outside of the perfunctory duties of a son to his higher-ranking father.” Hux shifted, fixing his hair again. “He was exactly the kind of man your history books painted. Although perhaps a little more bitter.”

“Yeah...he seemed to take the Battle of Jakku pretty hard. Pretty...personally.” Ben leaned back on his hands, watching what he could of Hux’s profile from that angle. “I mean, obviously he jumped right back in it again with the whole First Order thing.” He paused, lowering his chin slightly but keeping his eyes on the line of the general’s jaw. “It must have been hard to impress him.”

“Mmm,” Hux hummed, but there was less of an emotional response this time, merely a shrug of his shoulders. Inside, it was more anger and pride, and deep seated satisfaction. “He was too full of self loathing to give out approval.”

“So what did you do with him, then? Besides give him a daily accounting of yourself?” It was a nasty little comment, delivered with a smile, coming from a place he didn’t admit existed in himself. The tirade ran through Ben’s head, and he felt the old, petty feelings rise up. He thought he had Hux pegged, that he would think how could Ben understand resentment against a father, when he had a father as exciting as Han Solo, as well-known as Han Solo? As eager to push him off elsewhere as Han Solo? As eager to keep his shipping business legit while sending his son out to play smuggler as Han Solo? A father who was eager to ignore him when he called for help, any kind of help?

Hux’s shoulders tensed, sliding forwards. He set his jaw tightly and frowned at the doorway. He was being transparent.

“Nothing.”

“Oh.” Ben was quiet for a minute, listening to an argument they could dimly hear through the walls from down the hall. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.” Hux was shutting down and all his walls were coming up, every single emotion pressed down to nothing.

With his senses extended toward the other man, Ben felt the suppression like doors slamming. He rubbed his forehead quickly, closing his eyes. Hux, meanwhile, had focused everything onto a small stain on the doorway.

“Show me,” the smuggler said without thinking, pressing forward with the Force against those blockages, curiosity blending with actual good intentions. He knew something about pushing things down deep, and the only times he’d found some rest had been when he’d wordlessly shown his uncle some of it. Luke hadn’t had any answers but sharing it had helped. For a very short time, until he was encouraged to push it down again.

“No,” Hux said, feeling the encroaching power and resenting it. He resented Ben’s ability to pull him apart at the seams.

“You don’t even need to talk,” Ben insisted. “Just show me.”

Hux made a noise, turning his head slightly and keeping his eyes on the door. “No.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated but knowing he should let it drop.

“Where did you get those scars on your arms?” he asked finally, opening his eyes and keeping them on Hux. He asked it quietly. They were burn marks, judging by the way the wounds had healed, and were round and white on the general’s pale arms. They were old marks, and more regular than the type of burns a soldier could get in the field from tech. He’d noticed them when Hux had taken off his jacket; the scars had stood out, paler than Hux’s skin.

Hux made another noise, hunching his shoulders. He swallowed and shook his head, squeezing his eyes tightly.

“Don’t...” He swallowed the rest of his sentence, and a short flash shot through his mind, the image of a cigarette against his shoulder, a large hand on the back of his neck, holding him still. Pain searing through the curve of his shoulder, leaving a dark ache.

Ben had been retreating, and the image wasn’t expected. He took a sharp breath, closing his eyes when the picture was suddenly in his head, but that didn’t make it dissipate. It wasn’t just an image, it was a full moment, the flare of pain he hadn’t experienced, the grip of a hand he didn’t know but now did. And something more, something after the anger…

He swallowed and opened his eyes, staring at Hux. He couldn’t say anything yet.

Hux stood suddenly, feeling sick and angry, a tight ball of rage settling in the pit of his stomach, against the corners of his shoulderblades. Ben raised his head to watch him, eyes still wide. He hadn’t expected to see that, of anything he’d guessed Hux was hiding. He hadn’t expected that door in the other man’s head to just open like that, with Ben there but applying no pressure.

“I wasn’t trying to...you just all of a sudden-” He took a deep breath, licking his lips. “I’m sorry. He should never have done that to you. He deserved worse than whatever killed him.” Some of Hux’s anger bled over into his voice; his head was still reeling with it.

The general said nothing, resisting the urge to simply leave. He took a deep breath, controlling himself, the anger, the pain, the sharp sting and heat that seemed to stay on his shoulder even now. He swallowed it down, pushed it back, then turned to Ben and glared at the other man.

“It would be best if you forget whatever you saw,” Hux said quietly, keeping his tone tempered. He didn’t want pity or sympathy or a kriffing shoulder to cry on, and the anger that he carried had made him stronger, made him resolute and stern now. Saying he was grateful for the abuse would be a lie, but he knew that years of it had made his father’s passing easy to accept.

Ben sat up straight and rolled his shoulders, still watching Hux the way he’d watch a wounded animal. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew exactly when men became dangerous. He hadn’t actually seen it in the general before then. Now he saw it. He knew it had been there, and there it was again, the temptation to push him further and see what the other man did with it.

But it wasn’t the right time.

Instead, he exhaled slowly and leaned back on his hands again.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” he asked, tone almost painfully casual.

“No,” Hux set his jaw, turning away from Ben, looking at the door and then pacing around the room again. He had been penned in too long. A man like Hux was used to going where he wished, when he wanted, and this was frustrating to the point where he was in danger of making a stupid decision. He took a deep breath, shook his head again and finally turned to sit back down on the bed, further away from Ben, eyes narrowed at the small spot he had focused on early. It was sickening, but he couldn’t shake the feelings Ben had pulled up. He could still feel the anger, the distrust and the underlying fear he had as a small child.

After watching the other man for another silent moment, Ben let himself flop back onto the bed. He had a thousand other questions, but none of them were appropriate, none of them were welcome. He wanted a thousand answers, and knew he couldn’t just take them, even though that might be the only way he’d get them.

“Well,” he said finally, flopping one arm over his eyes. “Wake me up when your ship gets here.”

The general took a deep, slow breath and realized that his mouth was absolutely dry. He made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat.

“Order the damn drink,” he said, resigned.

Ben rolled over and stretched to tap the wall console over the headboard. He didn’t bother asking Hux what he wanted; he’d complain regardless.

“Gogo?” He waited a minute, then tapped it again. “Gogo?”

The Twi’lek’s irritation came through the speaker, no less intact for its tinny quality.

“What? What do you need, Skywalker? Why do you want more?” There was a crackle and hiss, then the sound of a distant shriek and a tinny laugh.

“Could you send up two Blood Plain Sunrises?” he asked in a winsome voice. “Please?”

Hux glanced back at Ben, frowning slightly. If he had been asked for his preferred drink, he would not have asked anything that needed a recipe.

“Fine! Fine! May you choke on them!” Gogo cut off the connection abruptly, and Ben turned his head to smile and shrug at Hux before putting his head down again. He wasn’t afraid of the general now, so he had no reason to worry about just lying there face down with his forehead comfortably on his wrist.

Hux sighed through his nose, and almost grotesquely, despite the rather sharp flashback, he felt like he wanted another cigarette. He made a noise, looking back at the door and shifting forward. If Ben wanted to be casual, then he could be casual as well. He settled himself facing away from the smuggler to watch the doorjamb, his back to the man lying on his stomach on the bed.

“How much longer?” Ben’s question was muffled by the blanket. He was pretty sure Hux could understand him, and he didn’t feel like getting up.

“I’ve never patronized this establishment. I can’t tell you their average waiting time,” Hux sneered, rolling his shoulders, already annoyed. He didn’t bother asking about what sort of appearance they would make, the two of them fully clothed and not talking to each other. Although at this point, Hux assumed that perhaps Gogo would have mercy and not ask questions.

Hux stood up again, going over to the discarded jacket and pulling his pad out of where he had wrapped, opening it as he sat down. There was a short message, sent from the bridge, that stated no delays, no resistance and that they were preparing the _Javelin_ for descent now.

“Not the drinks, nerfherder. Your ship. How long until your ship gets here?” Ben took a deep breath and shifted. The bed wasn’t comfortable, but to be honest, he’d slept on much worse. Much much worse. He was bored now, in the uncomfortable silence after Hux’s inadvertent sharing of his childhood. He hated waiting for things. It gave him time to think, and he wasn’t really ready to face the reality of what he was going toward, even as he was eager to cut this waiting time and get there.

Glancing up, Hux glared at Ben before he checked the timestamp, frustrated to see that they still reported nearly two hours until landing. At least everything was going according to plan on that end. The general wished he could send a message back, but the tech on the pad just wasn’t built for that sort of inter-system transmission with no linkup.

Ben turned his head to watch the general when he walked away from the bed.

“The latest transmission reports arrival in just under eighty minutes. Captain Phasma is leading our recovery.”

“Well, tell him to speed it up.” The smuggler sat up in a rush when someone knocked on their door. Without waiting for an invitation, Gogo pushed the door open and walked in with a tray. Not bothering to look over at them at first, she set the glasses on the desk then tucked the tray under her arm.

Hux’s eyebrows shot up, and he sat up straight, watching Gogo as she walked in. He turned as she went over to the desk, then shifted, looking in between the Twi’lek and Ben with his eyebrows still raised. Ben was trying to edge closer to Hux as Gogo set the drinks down, managing to slide his hand onto the general’s thigh by the time she turned around. Hux saw the man getting closer and shifted a little, spreading his legs slightly, although his back was steel straight by the time Ben put his hand on him.

Her first reaction to them was a noise of disgust.

“What is happening here?” she demanded, throwing up one hand. Her bangles clanged against one another like audible punctuation.

Hux took a deep breath and smiled just a little bit, trying to make his expression easy.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and it came out sounding surprisingly sincere. The Twi’lek raised her painted-on eyebrows at him in disbelief.

“You two are terrible. Who is paying who?” She pointed at Ben. “You look like you don’t even know what you’re doing.” She pointed at Hux. “You look like you are made of wood. Just fuck already and get away before your bad energy curses everyone.”

Hux made a pained noise, still trying to smile and he looked over at Ben. He shrugged, eyebrows up, trying to tell Ben to say something and get this woman out of the room. Instead, Gogo looked closer at Hux, frowning.

“Don’t smile your fake smile at me. Did Skywalker make you do this? Do you owe him something?” She shook her head and pulled the tray from under her arm, holding it as though she was going to throw it at him. “Tell me why I don’t hit you.”

Ben held his hands up placatingly, shaking his head at her.

“Gogo, come on. It’s...okay, it’s his first time.” He lowered his hand to rub Hux’s knee.

Hux’s eyebrows snapped down instantly and whatever feeble attempt at a smile he had forced immediately went away. When was the last the he had to deal with convincing a civilian to just leave him alone? Years. It had been years. He groaned and covered his face in his hands, leaning forwards, running his hands through his hair and lacing them behind his neck. Ben grinned and patted the general’s knee again. Gogo’s expression was distrustful as she pointed at Hux accusingly.

“Soldier, you are a virgin? And you pick Ben Skywalker for your breaker?” She made a noise, lekku twitching behind her.

“No, no, I mean...he’s not completely...inexperienced.”

“Stop talking,” Hux snapped, looking over at Ben and shaking his head. “Please, stop.”

He sighed, sitting up, pushing his hair back again, seemingly never satisfied with his appearance unless he had a ruler-straight part and an immaculate uniform. The general would rather be in a shootout in the alley behind the brothel than in this room right now.

“Not a virgin, thanks for the concern,” he said after a moment, his face not entirely composed. “Although i’m curious about the facet of Ben’s reputation that’s gotten you so worried about me.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Gogo shook her head almost furiously. “I am not worried. I just want to know what’s wrong with you two.” She made a noise and pointed at him again. “It is your first time with a man, is that it? Ugh.”

“Yeah, can’t get anything past you, Gogo. He’s new to it. And we got started, he got a little jumpy.” Ben shrugged. “Thanks for the drinks!”

Hux sighed as he took a deep breath, placating, amenable, nice. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Gogo set the tray down, sighing as she walked over to the bed. Hux frowned and shifted back, confused.

“Fine! Fine. You need my help, I get it. Stupid boys. Skywalker, can’t you do a thing right?” She pushed her fingers through Hux’s mussed hair. The general’s eyes narrowed, and instead of jumping out of bed, he just glared at her, putting a hand on the center of her chest and pushing her back.

“You will not touch me.” His voice had changed from slightly confused and appealing to one of complete control, a First Order officer giving a command that would not be disobeyed. His tone was low and absolute, “Thank you for your hospitality. We require nothing further.”

Gogo was glowering at him, and it was obvious that Hux had just been placed into the same category in her estimation as Ben. She tossed her head, hands on her soft hips.

“If you want to play that stupid military game, you do that to him.” She pointed at Ben, finger stabbing the air. “That’s how you do it. You take control. Don’t you let him. Stupid stupid soldier.” She stepped back and grabbed her tray again. “Do not make me come up here again to teach you how to fuck.”

Ben took a deep breath and smiled wanly. “We’re gone in less than eighty minutes, Gogo.”

“Yes, good.” She walked back over and jabbed her finger into the front of his shirt. “Do not mess up, Skywalker, or we will not work again.” She spared one more look for Hux then walked out of the room.

As soon as the Twi’lek left, Hux stood up and turned to glare at Ben. He shook his head once, taking a step back away from the smuggler. “Are you utterly incapable of keeping your mouth shut?”

“Look, I’m trying to keep you as undercover as possible here, buddy.” Ben looked up at Hux, eyebrows raised. “What’re you complaining about?”

It seemed to Hux that so much efficiency was lost for the sake of friendship. He made a frustrated noise, gesturing in the direction of the door.

“None of that was necessary,” he growled, frustrated and annoyed. “That entire interaction was another reason why ordering a drink simply to slake your boredom was foolish.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it wasn’t necessary.” Ben smiled slowly, as though he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “But that was pretty kriffing funny, wasn’t it?”

Hux narrowed his eyes, glaring at Ben. “No. Explain the joke to me.” His expression made Ben burst out laughing.

“The way you were all...and you couldn’t even...” The smuggler couldn’t get a full sentence out as he continued to laugh. “And then when she...and you just went…” Every time it seemed like he could stop, he looked back at Hux’s expression and lost it again.

It was very hard to watch Ben, and after only a few beats Hux stepped forward quickly and pushed Ben back onto the bed, his hand tight on the other man’s shoulder. He had one knee on the bed as he leaned over the smuggler, sneering with his bright hair falling forward.

“Maybe the Twi’lek girl was right about how to handle you,” he growled, anger and frustration spilling over. He was a man used to being obeyed, immediately, unquestioningly, and he tried to impress the weight of that expectation on Ben. “You just need someone to tell you what to do.”

Ben half-choked on his laughter, staring up at Hux in shock. There it was again, that anger from before. The general spat it out with each word. The hand on his shoulder was stronger than Ben had figured it would be, than it should be for the image Ben had in his mind of this man’s life. Even so, he was still sure he could push him away with one hand, and with the Force, he could have broken the back of his head against the wall in a second. But he let it happen, even though he wasn’t sure why. When Hux held him down, he stayed.

“Oh? Is that something you know anything about? Is that something you see yourself doing...Emperor?” The smile remained, though the childish humor of a minute ago was gone.

Hux kept his eyes on Ben’s, not moving, his conviction absolute. “You will call me General,” he growled, the heel of his hand pressing down against Ben’s collarbone. The smuggler took a deep breath, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Do you think you can break me, general?” he said, voice lower and measured.

“I don’t think you need breaking.” Hux shifted, moving his other hand to Ben’s chin to press two fingers against the hard bone and tilt his head up. “I think you need direction.” Ben swallowed hard, fighting just enough so that Hux would meet some resistance when he tried to move him.

“Then I repeat the question. Is that something you see yourself doing?” Ben kept his voice even. He’d throw him away from the bed in just a minute. He’d let him play the game, he told himself. It passed the time. This didn’t affect him, he told himself.

Ben had been very wrong earlier. Hux certainly wasn’t a virgin, and if he had been just another soldier looking for a lay with a Skywalker, this certainly wouldn’t be his first night with a man. He had even been in this position before, holding down a stronger man, keeping him still with just his fingers under his chin, centimeters away from the tender flesh under his jaw.

“It’s certainly something I would enjoy,” Hux said, and he was being honest, seeing Ben’s power, seeing his flippant attitude. Bringing him to heel would be a fucking pleasure. He shifted, sliding his knee further up the bed and pressing against the inside of the smuggler’s leg.

“Mm…” Ben felt all the muscles in his leg tighten, felt his smile change. “I bet you would.” He put his hand on the general’s hip, tightening his thumb against the bone. Hux allowed the touch, not flinching. “But that’s not the biggest question.”

With his hand by his side on the bed, Ben slowly closed his fingers slightly. To the man over him, it would be the slightest pressure around his throat.

“Is it something you can actually do?” he finished, eyes on Hux’s face.

Hux’s eyes narrowed; he knew what Ben was doing and knew he was powerless to stop it, but he didn’t move away, didn’t back down from the obvious challenge. He changed his grip, sliding his hand to the side of Ben’s neck so just his thumb was pressing into the flesh there to turn Ben’s head to the side. Enough to hurt, but not near anything too fragile or delicate.

“I have some practice giving orders,” Hux muttered, leaning down slightly and turning his head to meet Ben’s eyes. “Enacting rigid discipline.”

Ben was breathing a little faster, but the pressure against Hux’s throat remained constant. He could hear it in the other man’s voice. He didn’t try to pull away.

“I have a solid history of ignoring orders. And discipline doesn’t have much of an effect on me.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he closed his fingers a little more. He wanted to watch the general’s eyes, to see his expression the moment he felt it.

Hux didn’t move, his eyebrows just barely coming together a little more as the pressure increased. He shifted his weight, and his knee slid against Ben’s crotch, pushing against him.

“Then we will have to find a method that works,” Hux growled despite the compressing force around his throat. Ben took a slow breath, then pulled Hux’s face down toward him with the Force.

“I hope you manage it. I have serious doubts.” He didn’t look away from the general’s face. “You should let me up.”

Hux didn’t move, still breathing evenly, although shallower. He knew this was a test, trying out each other’s boundaries, pressing each other further along. A diversion apt for an Outer Rim brothel. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Mm...you know that I can make you. But maybe that is what you want.” He felt like they were frozen; any more from either of them would actually hurt.

Hux could feel it too, the tension languishing. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head once.

“I want you to do as I say,” he said, quietly. “Let me breathe.” There it was, the establishing order. It was even a request; it was a test of Ben’s intent.

The quality of Hux’s voice was what Ben wanted to hear. He wondered how long he’d try to talk. That curiosity pressed in on his head, that voice he heard sometimes. It urged him to try. They had the time. And wouldn’t it be good to finally destroy that mild, disinterested expression?

“Without a please?” Ben asked quietly. He closed his fist loosely, eyes on Hux’s the entire time. He was beneath him, sure, and the general’s hand was against his throat. But Ben didn’t even need to touch him to own him. On the other side of it, he liked the set of Hux’s face when he talked like that, the obvious power in his hands. This was a man he could believe was ready to start a war.

Ben wanted to hear him gasp.

That type of pressure was something that Hux couldn’t ignore. His knee pressed painfully into Ben’s groin before his hand slid to the man’s hair. He pulled viciously, leaning over Ben a little more to glare down at him.

“Do-” A harsh breath in, and the struggle was obvious, even if the only indication that he was in distress was the color rising on his cheeks, “as I...” He gasped, mouth open, face fiercely contorted. “Say.”

Ben made a noise as he let the general pull his head back, exposing his own throat even as Hux was choking. He arched up against him, feeling a sting and pull in his side as he did.

“Or you’ll what? Tell me what you’ll do. General.” He laughed a little, though it came out more breathlessly than he’d thought it would. He didn’t let up the pressure around the other man’s throat, even as the general’s face changed color; his fair skin showed it quickly.

Hux made a noise, taking another ragged gasp in though his grip was still unforgiving. He was furious, and he took in a final breath, trying to find some weakness, trying to find something.

“I’ll stop.” The words came out with some kind of semblance of ease, as much as Hux could muster.

In the silence after Hux spoke, it was his own panting breaths Ben heard. He hadn’t expected that. He swallowed roughly, letting go, letting his hand uncurl by his side, letting that pressure around Hux’s throat release. The smuggler met Hux’s eyes, seeing them teary but not from emotion, red but not with crying. The remaining signs of what he’d done to him.

“Then breathe.”

Hux didn’t change his position as he breathed in harshly, mouth open as he continued to stare down at Ben. He shifted his grip, making it just less than painful, then slid his knee down so it was just uncomfortable and not jarring.

He nodded once, the hand on Ben’s shoulder sliding down to press against his chest. He made a noise, regaining his composure.

“Good.”

For once, Ben didn’t smile. He just kept his eyes on Hux’s, feeling every gasping breath he took. Outside the window was the sound of some sort of machinery crash, then angry shouting, but it was diffused, a street away.

“So let go.” The smuggler blinked slowly, the hectic color in his face slowly going down as well.

Hux shook his head, still watching Ben carefully. “No.” He was still very aware of Ben’s hand on his hip, and he let out a breath of air from his nose.

“I told you to do as I say, or else I’ll stop.” Hux made a noise, tilting his head slightly, his pale complexion slowly returning to normal, although his breathing wasn’t even. “You did,” he muttered, looking from Ben’s eyes to his chest, down his torso before looking up again. “So I’m not going to stop.” His eyebrows came down slightly, watching Ben’s face. “Hands behind your neck.”

Ben squeezed the officer’s hip bruisingly before he let go to slowly bring both hands up and lace them behind his neck. He effected a very casual posture, a smirk at the corner of his mouth and his body relaxed.

“It doesn’t matter where they are. What I did to you, I can do any time.” He smiled a little more. “As long as I can think, I can do what I want to you.” He barely heard himself. This wasn’t how he talked, not to an ally, not to an acquaintance.

Hux made a noise and shifted to let go of Ben’s hair, pushing it back off his face. He nodded then pressed his fingers to Ben’s temple to turn his head to the side again.

“I know. But you like to use your hands,” he muttered, shifting again and looking over Ben’s face, his arms. He nodded again, leaning up to look down at the man on the bed as he pushed his own hair back. “Keep talking.”

“About what?” Ben asked, this time managing to make his voice sound as casual as he wanted it to be. He turned his head back to meet Hux’s eyes. “About how your self-concept of powerful crumbles if I decide it should?” He raised his eyebrows slightly, just a little flick upwards. “About how I’ve gotten you out of uniform, powerless, on a planet you’ve never been to? About how I could have delivered you up to a whole host of people who’d love to get their hands on you? But instead, I chose to keep you for myself?”

Hux made a noise, gesturing slightly. “There are always people around who are powerful, your’s happens to be exceptional,” he said very calmly, his tone composed. Ben swallowed, color rising slightly in his cheeks again. He shifted slightly on the bed, just to move, not to dislodge Hux.

“It’s not a power you can take. It’s mine.” He watched the other man closely. He could still hear the scratchiness in Hux’s voice, though the skin around his neck was unmarked.

The general nodded, not looking away from Ben. “I know.” He put his hand on Ben’s hip then drew it up his side very lightly. “We are each given power in accordance with our potential.” He frowned a little, his hand still on Ben’s side. “Don’t move. Keep talking.”

Ben winced as Hux’s gloved hand moved up his side, feeling that sting again.

“How’re you doing that?” he asked finally. “Show me your hand.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Hux muttered, smirking a little. He held his hand up, over Ben’s face. “You didn’t move. You’re doing well.”

Ben’s eyes moved from Hux’s gloved fingertips to his face again. “Then why’s my blood on your kriffing glove? What the hells did you do?”

“You have glass stuck in your shirt,” Hux said, voice mild as he put his hand back against Ben’s side. “You failed to notice earlier.” The general didn’t press down, just held his hand there, watching Ben’s face. “Do you want me to take it out? Or wait until we’re on the ship?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d missed an injury until much after the fight. Ben kept his eyes on Hux’s, breathing a little shallower as he tried to guess whether the general would press the shard further into his side or just...let his hand rest there as a reminder that he could.

Hux could see it, the debate, the pull in between keeping control and relinquishing it.

“It hasn’t killed me yet. It can’t be that bad,” Ben answered after a moment.

“It’s not,” Hux said, keeping his hand against Ben with his fingers spread against his ribs. “I’ll see to it later.”

The smuggler made a noise, raising his chin slightly. He didn’t need that to be something else for the general to try to hold over him.

“I’ll just yank it out. It doesn’t bother me. I barely even feel it.” He shrugged and settled back comfortably again.

“Oh, I see.” Hux narrowed his eyes, pressing down on Ben’s side and watching him like a hawk. “It’s nothing then.”

The muscles in Ben’s jaw were instantly tight as he set his back teeth. The pain was sharp, that invasive type of pain that wasn’t like just getting hit or even having something broken. It was the unique type of pain that a foreign object sent through the body, the pain of ‘this shouldn’t be here.’ His lower back straightened slightly, but he kept his eyes steadily on the man’s above him and made sure he didn’t pull away from his hand.

“Nothing at all,” Ben replied, voice even.

Hux smirked a little, standing up now and not leaning over Ben. He kept the pressure on the wound, knowing that this was just a sharp sting; it wouldn’t cause any permanent damage. It was just a test. Ben wanted to shove him away, but he knew that would be an unforgivable weakness in the general’s estimation. He laid still on the bed, breathing evenly. This was exactly what training was for. No matter what type of training. Jedi training to keep your calm in the middle of a fight, smuggler cool to show you didn’t even feel pain and could keep this up all day, the ice of a political facade unmoved despite verbal blows. He leaned his head back slightly as though stretching from the day’s activities. Nothing hurried, just waiting.

Hux made a noise and leaned over a little more, putting his other hand beside Ben’s head. He didn’t move his hand on Ben’s side too much, letting the pressure stay at that level. He knew Ben was adjusting to the pain. He brought his face closer to Ben’s, catching his gaze.

“Let me tell you something,” Hux muttered, slowly pushing harder against Ben’s side before sliding his hand up to catch a new angle. “I want it to hurt.”

Ben’s eyelashes fluttered slightly but he didn’t actually blink away from Hux’s intense pale eyes. Even this wasn’t anything too severe; he’d shed more blood on brothel sheets than this, after much more dangerous fights.

“Why?” he asked, the word grating out of his throat quietly. “It’s just a little piece of glass.”

“I know it doesn’t hurt much,” he said softly, shaking his head, holding his hand still. “But it should still be painful.” He watched Ben carefully, noting the way that his eyes moved, the tension in his torso. “You are to tell me when I’m hurting you.”

The general’s commanding tone was sharper than the glass being pressed into his flesh. It rubbed his nerves the exact same way, the invasiveness of the order. It wasn’t his place, as it wasn’t anyone’s place.

“My pain is mine. You can’t control it,” he said finally. It was enough that he didn’t throw him against the wall.

“Then consider it an indulgence you’ll have to give yourself,” Hux sneered, standing up straighter and taking his hand off Ben’s side. He disdainfully wiped his bloody glove on the man’s shirt. “I would have enjoyed that.”

Ben watched him, finding himself slightly out of breath from the removal of contact more than from Hux hurting him. It was hard to reconcile his odd disappointment. He swallowed and blinked, pulling his arms down and quickly sitting up. Again, he wasn’t sure who’d won that round. He told himself it was definitely not Hux. As he moved, Hux took a few steps away from the bed, leaving Ben room to move.

“Well, like you said, you don’t even know how to enjoy yourself. Especially in a brothel.” Ben swung his legs over the edge of the bed, not looking at the general. The tension was still in the room; he got up restlessly and walked over to get his drink. “How long now? I’m tired of waiting for your inept crew.”

“Less than an hour.” Hux made a noise, going over and picking up his pad. Frowning, he glanced over at Ben. “My crew is far from inept.”

“I still don’t think they even noticed you were missing until about...an hour ago,” Ben smirked, taking a long gulp of his drink. It was sour with fruits from the south side of the planet where they grew dark red and covered with spines.

Hux glanced over at Ben and rolled his eyes, putting his pad down.

“Wrong,” he said, walking over and holding his hand out. “Give me my drink.” Ben looked from Hux’s hand to where the glass sat on Gogo’s banged up desk, then up to his face.

“Your hand busted?” he asked in a tone that would have made his father proud.

“You’re closer, and I’m asking you,” Hux said, his eyebrows twitching upwards. “Pass it over.”

Ben tilted his head and smiled, just a little bit. He turned his own glass in his hand as he watched Hux. This helped. This made the room feel normal again. He avoided looking at the bed, at the spot their anger had almost caused an explosion.

“You know, I’d love to help you out, sweet cheeks. But...I mean. Even in the Outer Rim, even on that dingy, wet, moldy little planet you’re from, there have got to be some manners. I mean, that’s how we maintain some level of civilization, right? Didn’t anybody ever teach you to say ‘please?’” His smile grew a little more as he pretended to hide it with another sip of his own drink.

Hux rolled his eyes, taking the few steps in front of Ben to take his drink. He stepped back, sipping and immediately wincing, eyebrows shooting up again.

“Not to my taste,” he said softly, although he continued to drink it with a disappointed and slightly disgusted noise. Ben rolled his eyes, supremely unsurprised by his condemnation. He set his drink back down on the desk and looked down at himself, pushing his jacket out of the way to find the spot the glass had torn through his shirt and skin. The black fabric hid the blood, but it also made it hard to find what he was looking for.

Hux frowned, taking another sip and putting his glass down on the crate.

“I said I would.” Hux took a step forward, gesturing to Ben’s side. He was frowning, his tone not...caring, really, but insistent. “You have a few shards still stuck in, here-” he pointed to under Ben’s pectoral, and then pointed down his chest, towards his ribcage. “Two more here.” He glanced around, still frowning. “Does she have some kind of kit in here?”

Ben looked up from his inspection, still making a face as he looked around the room. Nothing really struck him as holding a medic kit.

“I don’t think so...it’s fine, seriously. I was just curious. They can stay for now. It’s nothing life threatening.” He shrugged and looked down at himself again, spreading the space between two buttons to try to look at his skin. “Just no hugs, okay? You’ll get blood on your brand new jacket.” He looked up with a quick grin then went back to poking at his injuries.

Hux made a displeased noise, turning away from Ben to pick up his drink and walk over to the other side of the room to pick up his datapad again.

“They’re nearly within communication range,” he reported, opening it up quickly. “They’ve cleared the atmosphere. I believe they’ll be able to land on the main hangar.” Hux frowned as he continued to read.

“Expect resistance.” His tone was one of absolute annoyance and disgust, as if this were just another wrinkle he had to iron out of his uniform. A nuisance.

Ben looked over at him, wiping his bloody fingers on his shirt before reaching for his mixed drink.

“Are you telling them or me?” he asked before taking a sip. He frowned suddenly and looked back to Hux sharply. “If they land in the main hangar, that’s just inviting gunfire. More than just ‘resistance.’ With your kriffing target logo all over the place, they’ll think they’re being invaded.”

“Then we’ll invade,” Hux said, his delivery deadpan. He glanced up at Ben and made a noise before sipping his drink. “That was a joke. The TIEs are staying on the Destroyer.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll contact the _Javelin_ when they get into realspace. Where do you recommend she land?”

“Somewhere that’s not as heavily used. It would be better to get them over toward the eastern landing area; it’s rougher to land, but there isn’t as much business. There’s a mostly defunct clinic and the garbage area.” Ben finished his drink and set the empty glass down. “News travels fast though, so we’ll still need to move in a hurry.”

“I’ll notify them,” Hux said, looking through the projections. “They’ll drop out in ten minutes. Phasma estimates thirty minutes for a descent.”

He glanced up at Ben. “How far to the eastern strip?”

“Walking or running?” the smuggler asked, completely seriously.

“Walking will draw less attention.”

“Twenty, twenty-five minutes, since I’m guessing we’ll want to keep off the main streets.” Ben shrugged, looking up to visualize the route.

“Then let’s go now,” Hux said, finishing his drink with a wince and walking over to put the empty cup on the desk. He picked up his white jacket from the floor, pulling it on and zipping it up before wrapping his scarf around his neck and mouth and pulling it up over his nose. “You have the route?”

Ben stood up and tugged his jacket down as though that would make him presentable. As an extra step, he ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to make it sit and not look like he’d been in bed. Though, really, he’d be less likely to face Gogo’s indignation if he did look rumpled.

“Yeah, more or less. I mean, head east and you’ll eventually hit it.” He took a deep breath and put his hand to his side for a second, then masked the gesture by reaching down to pull out one of his blasters to make sure the safety was off. He looked up again at Hux. “You ready?” He grabbed his bag from beside the bed and slung it over his shoulder then slid it to rest at his back.

Hux watched Ben’s hands, his shoulders, smirking a little as he tucked his pad into the jacket’s holster pocket.

“Lead the way,” Hux invited with raised brows, opening the door for the other man. Ben nodded to him with half an exaggerated bow as he walked through ahead of the general.

“Make sure you close it behind yourself,” he said as he headed for the stairs. “Otherwise...you know who will be angry…” He laughed as he took the stairs two at a time down to the main floor.

Hux rolled his eyes, pulling the door closed and making sure that it locked before following Ben at a pace more befitting a grown man and not a teenager.

“So much for being inconspicuous.”

On the way out, Ben blew a kiss to Gogo, knowing she wouldn’t be able to yell at them because she was haggling with a customer who seemed extremely nervous about being in the Palace at all. He was wringing two of his four hands continuously and stuttered almost incoherently every time the Twi’lek asked him a question. And to tell the truth, she had a devastating smile when she chose to. She did catch Hux’s eye and took the extra second to point imperiously at him, then she turned her wide sweet eyes back to the customer in front of her.

Hux went over to her quickly and leaned down, ignoring whatever hapless sentient she had wrapped around her fingers. He put a hand just barely at her jaw then pulled down his scarf to whisper into her ear.

“You were right.” His voice was barely above a sigh. “He takes well to being held down.”

The Twi’lek girl looked up at him with an almost fierce delight in her eyes. She murmured something softly in Twi’leki before nipping his lip, then shoving him away.

“Go!”

Hux smirked, taking a few steps back and pulling his scarf back up over his mouth and nose. He kept his eyes on Ben’s back, following him out of the Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part wraps up next week! We'll also be posting chapter 1 of the second part, which will be titled 'Ambitions', since the last chapter of part 1 is shorter. Remember to follow the series page for updates, and thank you all for the responses so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor character death, nothin too cool. the next part of this series is up today as well! check out the series' page and start reading part two...Ambitions. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7116661/chapters/16165195)

At the door of the brothel, Ben glanced back to make sure Hux was following him closely enough and frowned to himself when he saw him talking to Gogo. When the general had caught up again, he led him out into the shaded street without speaking. Almost immediately, he turned down an alley with laundry hanging on lines strung between small thin windows on either side. Rather than impatiently batting the cloths out of the way, he did his best to walk in the little gaps, turning sideways to slip through at times. Hux frowned, slightly confused, but followed suit, doing his best to avoid touching the laundry. Halfway through the alley, Ben paused to bow to a very old and wrinkled sentient who was sitting on a stoop, apparently weaving rough threads through a small frame. The sentient waved an old shaking hand to him dismissively, muttering something that sounded fond and ended with ‘Leia.’ Ben smiled and shrugged, then motioned for Hux to follow him around another corner.

They’d turned into a part of town that was dingier, but oddly didn’t seem to have the same impending danger that the last section had had. Hux kept close to Ben, pulling out his datapad and sending a quick message to Phasma. Looking at the projected time on his screen, he was glad to see that the _Javelin_ was close enough to receive transmissions.

“She’s heading to the east hangar,” he muttered, just loud enough for Ben to hear. He was standing so that he was almost touching the man’s shoulder.

Ben looked over at him and nodded, walking at a more relaxed pace as they went.

“Good. That’ll be much less painful for everybody.” He smiled a little then raised his eyebrows. “What were you talking to Gogo about?”

“Nothing of import,” Hux said as he fielded questions coming into his holopad, frowning slightly. “Phasma is bringing a partial company of troopers for security. Mitaka and Colonel Derr’wan are on the bridge.” He took a deep breath, nodding. “We’re keeping to the schedule.”

“We don’t need troopers. This should be quick and easy as possible. I mean, no one’s going to know we’re headed over there. As long as your shuttle can handle the terrain on the eastern side, this is a simple boarding.” Ben shrugged. “Tell your Captain Phasma he worried too much and you’re a big boy now.”

Hux frowned, making an annoyed noise. “They are coming as a security measure, not an invading force.”

“We’ve got three blasters between us. I don’t think we’ll have a problem!” Ben shook his head, then made a thoughtful sound and grabbed Hux’s sleeve to pull him down a street that was almost hidden beneath a collapsed archway. “This way.”

Hux frowned but didn’t jerk away from Ben, tucking the pad into his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

Ben shook his head once and held his finger to his lips, pulling Hux back against the wall so they were in the shadow of the arch ruins. Hux set his jaw but said nothing, trusting Ben out of necessity. They stood this way for several minutes before two sentients walked by with weapons out.

“Nah, he’s the ginger one from the holos, I heard. The one with the mouth on him,” one of them commented as they passed the archway.

“By Rii’a’s shorts, that one? I’m surprised they let him out without bodyguards. Wonder how Solo even got him. He’s pretty old to be—”

“No, no, not that Solo. The younger one.” The sentient cleared his throat and spat as he and his companion continued down the street. “So you know what that means.” Both of them laughed; by the time they continued the conversation, they were too far away to be heard.

Reaching over, Hux squeezed Ben’s arm to keep him grounded. His grip was tight on him, holding him back. He stayed quiet for another few seconds before turning to speak softly.

“How far to the hangar?”

“Around that block is the medic unit. We can go on either side of that, then there’s the garbage wall. The hangar’s behind that,” Ben muttered, obviously fighting to keep his voice level. He swallowed and pulled his arm away from Hux’s grip. “Come on. The street’s empty.” He led Hux out of the alley and the general followed him, a half step behind. Hux pulled the scarf up to cover his head, drawing it tighter over his face.

“We have fifteen minutes,” he said, glancing at the back of Ben’s head.

“Mm...we might be cutting it a little close, but not bad. Hopefully we won’t meet any more friendly faces.” Ben tried to have his eyes everywhere, and his other senses extended where his eyes couldn’t be. “Did you tell your troops not to come in shooting? Because...well, let’s be honest, you don’t look much like you. You look good.”

“Phasma knows better,” Hux said, ignoring the backhanded compliment. He knew that Ben was one of the better men to have on his side in a situation like this and refused to rise to the bait.

“Mmhmm.” Ben’s agreement was dubious at best. “More important question then, I guess. Are they going to start shooting at me?”

“They have been told that I am bringing a guest on board, ” Hux said, still staying very close to the smuggler. Ben glanced over at him and raised his eyebrows. He made no move to put any more distance between them.

“What sort of ‘guest?’ The sort of guest you’ve been? Am I going to get stunned or tossed into the brig or restrained as soon as we lift off?” He didn’t sound particularly concerned.

Hux made a dismissive noise.

“They’re preparing a berth on the _Finalizer_ ,” he said shortly, glancing around. “You will not be treated as a prisoner.”

Ben wasn’t sure he believed that, but he didn’t argue.

The line for the dilapidated clinic stretched out into the street, winding itself into strange angles. Ben led Hux around the right side of the line, toward the squat building itself. The humans and sentients waiting in the line all looked resigned and apathetic toward their own plight and didn’t cast more than a curious look toward the two men walking to the edge of the building.

“If you’re ever injured here, don’t ever go to the clinic,” Ben murmured in Hux’s ear as they walked past. “You’ll catch three diseases you didn’t come in with, and if you live two days after you leave, you’re lucky. And that’s if you don’t die just waiting in line. You want to go three streets over; there’s a building with a blue line over the door.” This information given, he walked around the back of the building with the general, where they were confronted by a long wall of broken machinery and other garbage. Some of the tarp-wrapped shapes had lately been patrons of the med unit.

Hux made a disgusted noise, but otherwise didn’t respond, wrinkling his nose and grateful that he had the scarf over his nose and mouth in the wake of the dead bodies. Without his greatcoat and the imminent threat of trooper blasters, Hux had very little problem looking completely unintimidating and utterly forgettable. He was frowning as he walked, looking around and trying to see if those bounty hunters that had passed them by earlier were walking back again.

The officer’s shoulder brushed against Ben’s as he pulled out his pad, frowning at the display. At the touch, Ben looked over at Hux again, raising his eyebrows. The other man was surprisingly quiet sometimes.

“How’s the schedule looking there, buddy? Because when we get on the other side of this, we’re out in the open.”

“Ten minutes,” Hux responded, sending a message to the _Javelin_ and looking up at the sky. He took a deep breath, tucking the pad back into his jacket. “The course is set, and they have confirmed their landing time.” He glanced up again, then looked over at Ben. “Are there any sentients waiting for us?”

Ben twisted his mouth a bit as he glanced around. Finally, he shrugged.

“There are things moving all over this garbage pile. I can’t tell if any of them are waiting for us specifically.” He gestured with his chin, started to walk toward the right side of the wall. “Come on. If they want us, they’ll have to fight for us.”

“Comforting,” Hux muttered, frowning. He put his hand on his blaster, glancing behind himself as they walked along the wall. “We should wait here until the ship lands.”

“We can,” Ben said, looking down and watching a small, toothy marsupial scurry across their path. “If you feel good about this as a hideout, we can stay here.”

“I haven’t felt good about much since we got on this gods forsaken planet,” Hux muttered, frowning deeply. “But I’d rather stay near the Yongor Rats than risk another shootout with rescue so close at hand.”

Ben aimed his blaster at another mangy rodent as it wove amongst the garbage near the bottom of the wall. “Aww, come on. You didn’t think that last shootout was fun? It was sort of fun, admit it.”

“Says the man who didn’t fire a single shot,” Hux murmured to himself, leaning against the wall and pulling his pad out again. He looked up, trying to see the sky between the buildings, even knowing that it wasn’t really useful for determining the status of the _Javelin_. “Seven minutes.”

“Longest seven minutes of my life,” Ben moaned as they got toward the end of the wall.

“If you feel like causing a scene, go ahead.” Hux gestured at the other side of the wall. “That ship is coming for me regardless of your antics.”

“Antics? I’m glad you consider saving your life ‘antics.’” Ben rolled his eyes dramatically then leaned down to pick something up off the pile. “Oh, yeah? Would you look at that?”

Hux’s didn’t even try to hide his disgust as Ben leaned towards the trash heap.

“What are you doing?”

Ben held up a dirty combination of wires, grime, a large, discolored data chip and a rather thick metal cylinder with a crushed end. Parts of it were so covered in rust their actual shape was unclear.

“This center thing?” Ben pointed, looking up at Hux, obviously pleased. “That’s a coupler I’ve needed for the ventilation on the Falcon for probably...half a year now. Just lying around!” He grinned down at the piece and started trying to free it from the other parts it was attached to.

“Stop that.” Hux’s voice was totally revolted, and he made a noise. “There is no way that piece of bantha shit is coming with us.”

Ben looked up with perplexed eyebrows, then back down to the parts.

“Look, I just need this piece here. I’m not looking to bring the whole kriffing thing.” He looked up again. “I need a wrench and some lube.”

“You need to get up,” Hux was still too shocked to put teeth behind his words. Ben went from spoiling for a fight to rooting through garbage at a dizzying speed. “Phasma will be here any minute.”

“Nah, we got about, what, three? Four minutes left?” Ben looked around, then started hitting one end of the piece against another solid piece of broken machinery in an attempt to break off the part he didn’t want.

“Gods, Ben, stop.” Hux turned away from Ben to pull out his tablet, checking the time. The _Javelin_ would be here in minutes and Ben kriffing Solo was digging in trash. “You can find that somewhere else.”

“Are you kidding me?” He continued to bang the parts together; the noise echoed against the building behind them. “This is not the sort of coupler you find all over the place.”

“You are going to attract attention to yourself,” Hux snarled, reaching forward to put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and trying to get him to stand up at the very least. “I can’t believe that you are actually—”

“Here they are!”

Hux looked up to see the two sentients who had passed by them earlier pointing at the two of them from across the landing strip. Ben straightened up at the same time, still holding the rusty mess in both hands.

“Ah, hells.” He pressed his mouth and looked over at Hux. “Look what you did! You were the one doing all that shouting!”

Instead of responding, Hux snorted, although he would have liked to point out that Ben was the one banging broken pieces of metal together in a small back alley where the sound would have surely carried. He got down on one knee, drawing his blaster and shooting at the sentients, who ran quickly out of sight.

“Will you please focus?” Hux asked, looking over at Ben. “We have real problems to deal with.”  
Ben smacked the desired metal piece against the other one more time and the end part flew off. He made a triumphant noise and shoved the ungainly piece into his bag.

“I’ll get to the rest of that that later,” he muttered to himself, pulling one of his blasters out of the holster and getting off a quick shot. One of the sentients darted out far enough to get a well-aimed bolt fired directly at Hux. Ben raised his left arm and made a strained noise as he grabbed onto the general with the Force and pulled him over to crash into his side. The bolt flew past him and exploded above his shoulder.

Hux didn’t realize what had happened until a second after the blaster’s heat passed by, the searing smell hitting him before he registered the pain that went through his shoulder and side as he fell. He made a noise, glaring at Ben as he shifted to push himself up to kneel again in the shooter’s position.

As one of the sentients leaned around again, Hux got off a quick shot, and he couldn’t help the delight as he heard a sharp scream. Not dead, but close.

He stood, reaching down to drag Ben up as well, the sky darkening above them. Dust swirled up and a few tarps covering up roofing issues fluttered to the ground as the Upsilon-class cruiser flew over the hangar.

“We’re going.”

The smuggler scrambled to his feet, pulling away from Hux. Suddenly he turned, and he felt the blaster bolt rather than saw it, instinctively throwing his hand up to deflect it slightly to the side.

Hux flinched, watching it happen, and glared at the sentient. He raised his own gun and began shooting as he walked forward out of the alley and onto the hangar pad. The two bounty hunters, caught in between the landing First Order cruiser and gunfire, backed up further, still shooting at the men.

Ben returned fire for a moment, then made a noise that was almost a growl as he raised his open left hand before bringing it down sharply, along with a portion of the wall next to the bounty hunters. The tumbling debris collapsed onto one of their attackers. The other yelled unintelligible insults in his native tongue. It was obscure, but not unknown to Ben. When the sentient ended one of his diatribes with “Vader” before spitting on the ground, the smuggler stopped, not noticing when Hux ran a few steps without him.

Hearing the name, Hux glanced over at Ben, watching the smuggler as the ramp came down with a hiss and Phasma disembarked, already raising her high-volt blaster at the final sentient. Hux made a noise, going over and quickly pushing her gun down while insistently shaking his head.

“Wait.”

Ben kept his eyes on the bounty hunter, walking toward him with measured steps. He walked into the gunfire as though immune, using the Force to protect himself as he approached. Some blaster bolts were redirected, while he ducked to avoid others. Hux’s eyes narrowed, and he wondered how long Ben could keep that up. It seemed effortless.

The sentient finally seemed to get that this was more than luck and he stumbled back. Ben didn’t let him get far. When the sentient yelled again, Ben swept his hand toward him sharply. His gesture mirrored the flight of a sharp piece of broken tech that followed his movement before burying itself in the bounty hunter’s throat. When the sentient dropped, gurgling and grabbing at his bleeding neck, Ben turned and walked back to Hux. Blinking against the light, he finally noticed the troopers that were exiting the shuttle and setting up a perimeter.

Phasma holstered her weapon, gesturing for her troopers to secure the loading area, two of them standing guard on either side of the lowered ramp. Hux glanced over at her and she nodded slightly.

“Glad to have you back, General.”

“Not quite yet, Captain,” Hux muttered, looking back at Ben. The general watched the smuggler walking towards him and gestured to the ship. “Well done,” he said a little louder, tilting his head up. “Let’s go before others show up.”

Ben nodded to him, expression a little too still, as though it was a very thin veneer over something uncontrollable. His eyes were too dark in the shadow of the shuttle. He glanced over at Phasma, taking in her height and chrome armor.

“You were right,” he said, voice seeming to come from a bit of a distance. “Everything with the First Order is bigger.” He followed Hux onto the ramp, glancing back at the town behind them for a minute more.

Phasma glanced at Hux, who didn’t say anything. Even after the short time he’d spent with the other man, the general recognized that Ben Solo was just barely holding himself together after what the bounty hunter had said, after what the young smuggler himself had done. Hux followed Ben into the cruiser, and Phasma ordered her stormtroopers in formation behind them.

Inside the _Javelin_ , the troopers were lined up on either side of the entry, and saluted Hux as he came up the ramp. Hux nodded to dismiss them, and they returned to their posts seamlessly. Ben stood beside him, looking around in unabashed amazement. The ship was amazing, top of the line. Brand new tech, not even dust in the corners. It rivaled the shuttles that the Senate used on Hosnian Prime.

The pilot saluted from his position in the entry. “One hour until we reach the _Finalizer_ , sir.”

“See to it,” Hux said, gesturing to the cockpit. The pilot saluted again and quickly turned, heading into the cockpit as the ramp raised behind Ben and Hux with Phasma walking up behind the two of them.

The general walked ahead of Ben, gesturing. “We’ll stay in the lounge.”

“It’s...a hell of a shuttle.” He licked his lips and shrugged. “Not the fastest thing I’ve seen, but it does the job.” He was still looking around, catching all the details in the construction. It was totally efficient, but design hadn’t been ignored in the slightest. It took the best of the old classic model and updated it to perfection.

Hux smirked a little, finally starting to feel comfortable. He made a noise, walking through the ship towards the lounge area.

“We do what we can,” he said, not looking back to see if Ben was following him. Ben jogged a step to catch up; he wasn’t going to trail after the general like a pufferpiglet.

“So Phasma’s the one in the shiny suit? What’s the story there? I thought you were all for standardization?” he asked, sounding more like himself.

“Captain Phasma is the highest ranking stormtrooper on board the _Finalizer_ , and the most decorated infantry soldier of any quadrant fleet,” Hux said, allowing himself to feel proud of her achievements. He opened the lounge door for Ben and gestured him in. “After you.”

Ben took a deep breath as he walked into the lounge, then looked back to Hux.

“That doesn’t even answer my question. Do all captains get the shiny stuff? What material is it? Did he choose that or did you or someone higher?” Ben looked around the lounge, immediately walking to the windows.

Before Hux could answer, Phasma came up behind the general.

“Sir.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth thinned as he recognized that the Captain was most certainly not a man as he had assumed.

“What is it?” Hux turned, his expression neutral.

“We have a pad prepared with all the pertinent reports from the quadrant,” she said as she passed Hux a thicker, sleeker, obviously more advanced pad than the one he had been carting around for nearly five days. “Mitaka requested that we have a spare uniform on board. If you’d like anything to eat, Lüeren is standing by in the galley.”

“Thank you Captain,” Hux replied, already frowning at the pad. “If that’s all...”

“Yes, Sir.”

She left quickly, turning to go to the room nearby where the eight troopers were sitting for the trip back to the _Finalizer_. Hux stepped inside the lounge, frowning as he began to read the distilled reports that had been prepared for him. The general didn’t look up as he walked over to a couch. “Help yourself to the bar,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards the far wall. “You were so eager earlier.”

Ben looked over at the bar, at the dark elegance of the whole room. It wasn’t opulent; it didn’t put him in mind of the state rooms in the Senate buildings. Most of the furniture was straight lines and practical fabrics, dark colors. There was an austerity even to this ‘lounge,’ but it wasn’t unappealing. He walked over to open the cabinets, more curious than thirsty.

“You want something? What’re the house specialities?” He picked up one of the bottles, frowning at the label. “Where did you even get this? This hasn’t been legal in a hundred years.”

“Which bottle?” Hux asked absently. He glanced up, making a noise as he saw the light blue-green glass. “The Ithorians were more than happy to give the Order gifts after we helped remove invading species on their new colony-world brought over by missionaries and vision-seekers. That particular bottle of Mist is infused with siblipede honey, which is particularly...potent.”

Ben was turning the bottle over in his hand, holding it up to see the level of liquid inside the glass. It was nearly full. The bottle was small, but looking at it, he wasn’t sure it had ever been opened.

“Huh,” he said finally, neatly slipping it into his satchel. Hux frowned, but didn’t say anything, turning back to his datapad. “I guess you do get all types out there.” He took another bottle out of the cabinet, reading over the label on that one as well. “You don’t come across too many Ithorians anymore.”

“No, but their Borao colony continues to thrive under the auspices of the Order,” Hux said mildly, glancing up at Ben briefly. Ben looked back at him, second bottle still in hand.

“Borao? Isn’t that where the Olar went when their own homeworld changed climate? They’ve been there for awhile.” He remembered his mother talking about the transport arrangements and the medical supplies the New Republic had sent initially to the fledgling world when they’d run into trouble. As far as he’d known, the Ithorians hadn’t been there then.

Hux shrugged, gesturing absently. “The Ithorians live on herdships above the surface, the two sentient species have managed fine.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, then looked down to open the bottle he was holding. “So...what’s all that about ‘removing invading species’ then? Who got removed?”

“Ithorians are a supremely peaceful kind of sentient. When they have need of a military, the Order is more than happy to step in as the current authority within the Borao system.” Hux flipped through his pad, his frown deepening.

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Ben walked over to where the general was sitting. “Who got removed?”

“A classified non-sentient, carnivorous flying species,” Hux explained, looking up at Ben, annoyed. “Do you want to analyze another gift in my liquor cabinet or can I get back to reviewing the last five days of reports?”

Ben stepped back, hands up placatingly. Someone got testy without his naps.

“By all means, sweet cheeks. Enjoy the read.” Without bothering to pick up one of the glasses neatly lined up beneath the cabinet (each one etched with the distinctive First Order symbol), he walked back to the window with the bottle. Stepping up onto one of the couches, he sat up on the back of it to watch the skies racing past as they ascended. He took intermittent sips from the bottle as he watched

Hux made a noise, looking up at Ben.

“Keep drinking that and we’ll end up dragging you into the Star Destroyer,” he advised, eyebrows up. “Just put it in your bag. Finish it later.”

Ben glanced over at Hux, looking like he might argue for a minute. Instead, he thought better of it and set the bottle down before looking back out the window.

“Eh, it’s not that strong anyway.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the rusty machine parts he’d picked up on Tyrakos. While Hux read, he fought to free the center piece he actually wanted out of the whole mess.

When Ben started to fiddle with the part, Hux rolled his eyes and pulled up the Tower messaging system, sending a quick ping to the tech crew on board the _Finalizer_ , telling them to bring in one of the assembly pods into the berths being prepared for Ben Solo. When they got on board, he would find a small workshop in his berth, where a library was set in Arrik’s.

Hux made a noise, shifting to put the pad down. “I’m going to change. Feel free to snoop around, although I doubt I need invite what comes naturally.”

“Yeah? Do I have some sort of pass to get me into things?” As though one of these stormtroopers telling him not to would keep him out of anything. Ben stepped down off the couch, stuffing the mech back into his bag. He glanced over at the pad and picked it up quickly, then looked up at Hux.

The officer made a noise, reaching down to take his pad away from Ben’s sticky fingers. “On the _Finalizer_ you will have a cylinder for that. This ship is open for your perusal.”

Ben watched the general, who, now that he was aboard a ship of his own, seemed like a general again, even dressed in that ridiculous jacket. He nodded, hooking his thumbs in his belt.

“Yeah, think I might do that. Where’s my berth again? For when I get bored of wandering? Or...you know what, nevermind. I’m sure I can ask any one of the bucketheads on board and they’ll point it out.” The smuggler smiled, and it was an easy smile. He wasn’t out of his depth, not yet. “I’ll catch you later. You go do you.”

Hux sighed, standing at the door. “We’re less than an hour from the _Finalizer_. I’ll take you to your berth then. If you’d like rest, I can take you to the officer’s quarters.” He pushed his hair back, gesturing slightly. “Is there anything else?”

Ben looked around the room, then over to the window before looking back to Hux. He shook his head slowly.

“No...no, I’m good.” He took a deep breath. “Go on, then.”

Hux nodded, opening the door and leaving for the officer’s rooms. He went into the two-bedroom berth and found two sets of his uniforms hanging up. Hux inspected them quickly, found them adequate, and laid them on the small bed before going into the tiny washroom and stripping. He stepped under the hot water and allowed himself to lean against the wall. With just over five days of reports to catch up with, he would be sleeping even less than normal for the next week.

He needed to report to the Supreme Leader, get debriefs from Mitaka and Derr’wan, review any staff changes, relocation assignments, resource requests. The list went far beyond the usual stack of reports, and he felt the sheer amount weigh heavy on his shoulders underneath the shower. He stayed there much longer than an officer’s allotted eight minutes, extending the time with a quick override command, but when he came out he was the general again.

Ben, on the other hand, wandered the shuttle, though he called it ‘exploring.’ The ship was nicer than what he’d imagined the First Order possessed, obviously in use but new. He found it a little unnerving to see the white-uniformed stormtroopers posted all over the ship; he was never quite sure when they were watching him and when they weren’t. No one said anything to him, however; he felt as though he was passing through the ship like a ghost. He was left largely to himself until one of the stormtroopers addressed him as “sir” and told him that General Hux had requested his presence on the bridge. The smuggler tugged his jacket to straighten it; the fabric snagged on one of the glass shards still trapped in his skin and he caught his breath as he followed the stormtrooper through the ship. He realized suddenly how tired he was, how his limbs felt weighted now that the adrenaline of the day had worn off. He’d been shot at, he’d run, he’d wheedled his way through, and none of that was particularly strange. He’d killed, and even that, while less common, wasn’t enough to make the day feel unusual. But what was exhausting him was the use of the Force; it was his energy that he was utilizing, and the things he’d done with it today had cost him a lot. He felt like he could sleep for twelve hours. Every time he breathed in, he felt the tug of the glass in his flesh.

He looked around the bridge; one of these uniformed morons had to be Hux.

The general was on the bridge, and he looked over his shoulder to see Ben Solo coming in, looking out of place, exhausted, and in some small amount of pain. It wasn’t an unwelcome sight. He turned, and the officers behind him parted to allow him to gesture Ben forward.

“Up here,” he said, and it was almost a smirk on his face. He was sure that while he might look cleaner than the smuggler, he probably looked just as tired, even in his uniform, greatcoat, and cap. “I want to show you something.”

Ben looked up at him, taking in his cleaned up appearance all at once. Washed up, shaved, hair combed, new clothes. Even his posture was different than it had been two hours ago. There was no way the general could have had time to sleep, and a closer look showed that Hux’s eyes reflected Ben’s exhaustion. But as he stepped up to walk beside him, Ben couldn’t help but notice just how straight the general kept his back, how he walked as though he was always pressing his shoulder blades as close to one another as possible.

He didn’t say anything as they walked, just let Hux take the lead here, on his ship.

The bridge was cramped, and already two of the petty officers cleared the area to stand outside of the main cockpit. Usually Hux wouldn’t be here at all, but it provided a clear view of the space ahead. He inclined his head towards Ben, then looked out of the _Javelin’s_ main view port, over the heads of the pilots. He gestured, holding his hand out.

“That,” he said with only the smallest amount of pride seeping through his voice, “is my ship.”

Ahead, the _Finalizer_ loomed, so huge it seemed barely suspended in the space it occupied. Tyrakos and its moon Beya, framed it, and the ship seemed to surpass both. TIE fighters buzzed around the Destroyer like flies, practicing battle maneuvers in the scant hours that the massive ship would be at rest. A couple smaller transport ships slowly made their way into the hangars, and the scale of the entire operation was apparent.

Ben couldn’t school his expression faced with that ship. His eyes widened slightly, mind trying to put the _Finalizer_ into scale, looking at the brand new TIE fighters with their larger panels, the gun ports that he couldn’t count from here. It was huge. It was a war machine that was not made for show. He licked his lips, not saying anything for a minute, attention glued to the Star Destroyer. He had seen holovids of the old Destroyers...Imperial class vessels. Hux’s Resurgent-class ship surpassed them in size by at least five hundred meters, and it was hard to tell just how big the ship was.

Ben finally looked over at Hux, a little surprised to find Hux watching him. That superior gaze. The smuggler tried to ignore the feeling of the rusted, dented piece he’d salvaged for the Falcon pressing against his hip inside his bag.

“Huh,” he said finally. “You were right. It is sort of big.” Taking a deep breath, he looked back to the front window.

Hux made a noise, turning back to look out of the _Javelin_ , watching the Star Destroyer fill up the entire viewport. He took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the ship ahead. His officers relayed messages and adjusted course slowly around him. The general nodded to himself and tried not to pay attention to Ben’s shoulder against his as the shuttle made its final approach.

Ben stared at the giant ship even when the general stepped away from him to speak to one of his lieutenants. There was a certain reality to it and to his decision, no matter how temporary he had told himself this adventure would be.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his hand over his mouth. No one in the cockpit reacted to him at all, moving around him while he stood stationary and out of place. It was more than just the ship that was bigger, although Ben pushed that thought out of his mind. No matter what kind of situation he was thrown into, he reassured himself that he'd be able to talk, fight or fuck his way out of it. It hadn't failed yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! The adventure continues in the next part of the series, Ambitions, set on the Finalizer. Please leave us comments, we really do appreciate all of them. And send us a message if you really want to chat, we're also on tumblr if you're keen on that sort of thing. Again, thanks so much for the support, and head over to Ambitions for the next installment! >>> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7116661/chapters/16165195


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